30: Two Steps
- Location
- Eart
30: Two Steps
A good strategist must always know when it's time to retreat.
Sebastian Shaw, or Klaus Schmidt as he was currently known, realized that the moment to leave Poland had arrived. It was unfortunate, as his research had yet to yield the results he expected or sought, but as a man who preferred to keep a low profile, he knew it was best to abandon ship when you could see it was about to sink.
And the Third Reich's ship was not only about to sink but also about to explode.
For others, perhaps it wasn't as clear. They thought the Third Reich still had a chance, that Hydra had a chance. But Shaw knew better: you cannot fight evolution, you cannot stop it or resist it.
Captain America and his new team of super-soldiers were evolution—perhaps not a natural evolution like the one Shaw sought, but evolution nonetheless, and something that would mark a new era for the world. and something Shaw longed to witness with his own eyes.
For those and many more reasons, he prepared to leave the concentration camp facilities in Auschwitz. If it were possible, he would have liked to stay a little longer. As one of the camp's principal scientists and a senior officer in charge, he had enjoyed considerable freedom to experiment, with all the test subjects he could ask for at hand—something he knew wouldn't be as easy to obtain elsewhere. Even so, as someone who preferred to remain in the shadows and work from the darkness, he opted not to face Captain America head-on, if it could be avoided.
He didn't fear the man or his team—Sebastian Shaw feared nothing. His power, his evolution, was superior. He was superior to everything. But making a scene by killing the "greatest hero" of this era didn't exactly fall within his definition of "discretion."
"Unfortunate," he couldn't help but murmur. He truly wanted to study his blood, to see if it was indeed something "artificial," or if, instead, the Americans had found a way to activate the hidden mutation deep within the DNA of a select few like himself. But whatever the answer, it could wait.
Everything has its time and place. Patience is not a virtue many can enjoy, but for someone who can defy the passage of time as he could, patience had become his greatest ally.
With that in mind, he thought perhaps it was time to head to the United States, take a small vacation, and relax a bit. He'd heard the nightclubs in Las Vegas were quite entertaining, and he had no shortage of money to spend on them—at least until this war ended and things calmed down a bit.
His musings were interrupted when he felt a slight tremor shake his office. It was very faint, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but not to him. Thanks to his power, he could sense that it wasn't a mere tremor; the kinetic energy behind it was more concentrated, more like a...
"Explosion?" He paused in his movements, glancing at his half-packed suitcase as different thoughts began to race through his mind.
Soon he heard the alarms blaring throughout the place, while a dozen more detonations caused the building he was in to start shaking. Distant screams and the sound of gunfire soon joined the chaos.
Shaw didn't rush. Despite the turmoil outside, his body began to move calmly once again, while in his mind he wondered how this was happening so soon.
He had heard the news, the reports. In recent days, Captain America's team had been sweeping through Poland with almost no resistance since Warsaw was liberated from Nazi occupation.
Even those "things" Hydra had begun deploying against them could barely slow their advance. Aberrant monstrosities that Shaw despised, deformities that defied nature itself. He had the chance to study some of them in recent days when Hydra brought them to Auschwitz, and everything he saw during that time repulsed him to his core.
For that reason, he knew this war was already decided. A "perfect" evolution would never lose to a forced, defective one that needed external technology to stay together and standing.
Still, it was undeniable that those things were "problematic." Shaw didn't know how many of those monstrosities Hydra had, but they couldn't be few. Even with his team, Captain America should have still been busy clearing out the nearest bases and concentration camps around Warsaw.
So why? Why could he hear Auschwitz extermination camp beginning to be attacked? For a moment, he considered that this didn't necessarily have to be Captain America's doing, but that thought was almost immediately dismissed. Shaw wouldn't entertain false hopes. In his opinion, only one person had the ability and means to invade a place as fortified as Auschwitz, and that was the super soldier who had liberated all of Warsaw in less than three days.
It seemed the reports he had been receiving were wrong, or something else had happened.
"The Lady of Luck hasn't smiled on me today," he thought with a hint of sarcasm. On the very day he decides to leave, Auschwitz is attacked—a coincidence that amused him slightly while also making his decision to abandon the German ship seem even more accurate in his mind.
If Captain America was advancing so quickly through Poland, then perhaps the Third Reich had even less time left than he had originally thought.
With one final motion, he closed his last suitcase and set off, deciding he could reflect on it all later. Right now, he needed to get out of here before the place was completely overrun.
Unbeknownst to Shaw, outside his office window, a crow, not much different from any other, watched him leave the room and began discreetly following his trail.
.
.
.
A few moments earlier.
"Get up!" The shout woke several prisoners as the doors of the building where they stayed were abruptly thrown open, soldiers storming in, yelling, and hitting anything in their path with batons.
On a bunk made of old wood, with only thin, torn rags as a mattress, Erik opened his eyes at the commotion. Even half-asleep, he didn't hesitate to stand alongside the others, quickly shaking off the lingering drowsiness while assessing the situation.
The guards who had barged in began herding everyone into the large courtyard, ordering them to form lines—something that had been happening with increasing frequency over the past week.
'Things are getting more tense,' it had started several days ago. Erik, like many others, didn't know exactly why, but the Nazi soldiers had become more irritable, more on edge. It was clear something was happening—something that worried and angered them—but no one dared ask because the last one who tried ended up with his head smashed against the ground.
A sight that haunted Erik's dreams for many nights.
Time was running out; the 16-year-old boy could feel it. More and more of them were disappearing, taken to who knows where, never to return. Erik had barely managed to avoid that fate, but as fewer people remained, it became harder to do so. He knew he would soon have to act.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Erik concentrated, felt that power within him flowing through every part of his being. As if it were a sixth sense, it traveled beyond his body like an invisible wave, extending and allowing him to feel all the metal around him with absurd ease, ready to bend to his will if he desired.
That's how he sensed one of the soldiers approaching where he was, weapon in hand. Erik opened his eyes and watched as the man walked with slow, measured steps, inspecting each prisoner in the line with sharp, bloodshot eyes.
Something was going to happen; survival instincts developed from his time as a prisoner told him so.
"Look at you, pathetic excuses for humans." The insult wasn't unexpected; in fact, it was quite common at this point. Even so, Erik felt his fists clench involuntarily.
He saw the soldier glaring with disdain at the prisoners, all of whom lowered their heads, fearing to provoke his wrath, accepting the insults without protest.
It was pathetic.
It was irritating.
It was unjust.
"You think you have a future? You think you'll ever get out of here?" the man mocked. He paused his walk for a moment, and from his mouth, a spit flew onto one of the prisoners' faces.
The prisoner trembled, the saliva running down his cheek. The soldier smiled, enjoying the sight, then continued walking until he reached the spot next to Erik. The boy saw from the corner of his eye how the soldier raised his weapon and with the barrel lifted the chin of the prisoner beside him to make him look him in the face.
"Tell me, animal, do you think you'll ever be free?" At such a question, the prisoner hesitated for a moment, his body trembling.
"Are you deaf?" the guard asked with feigned concern when he saw the hesitation.
"N-no, sir, I..." But before his words could finish, a strangled sound cut them off.
With bloodshot eyes, the prisoner stared at the barrel of the gun under his chin. At the same time, the guard also looked at his weapon in confusion, his finger pressed against the trigger.
For a moment, an uncomfortable silence filled the place. Then the guard laughed, lowering the barrel from the prisoner's chin. The man almost collapsed to his knees, urine staining his filthy pants, and unable to stop himself, he too began to laugh, tears streaming from his eyes.
Both men smiled at each other, but in the next instant, the guard's expression changed abruptly.
With blind fury, his fist flew forcefully towards the prisoner's face. Blood spurted as his lip split, and his powerless body fell to the ground.
"Do you think you're lucky, huh?!" the guard roared, causing all the prisoners around to tremble as they watched helplessly while their companion began to be beaten.
Erik bit the inside of his cheek as he felt his heart begin to race.
"Do you think it's funny? That I'm a joke?!" the guard kicked, making the prisoner writhe and try to curl into a ball to protect himself from the attacks, which only enraged the German more, who then decided to lift his rifle with both hands, ready to use it as an improvised club.
The weapon came down, but before it could strike, a hand reached out and, with ease that should have been impossible, stopped the blow cold.
"That's enough," a voice whispered, and the soldier looked to the side in confusion to see a pair of eyes filled with anger.
Erik felt his last shred of patience vanish. He had endured enough; he was no longer going to tolerate it. Just imagining that his mother might be suffering the same treatment made his heart freeze to an extreme, while at the same time, he felt his power clamor within him, begging to be used, pleading to be revealed to the world.
Fine, he could fulfill that desire. Without needing to look, he could sense how the other guards were becoming alert, how they raised their weapons, aiming at him, ready to shoot, to kill him.
The metal within dozens of meters around began to tremble slightly. Erik was ready. He had secretly trained enough; his powers now obeyed his commands to the letter, and he was willing to unleash them to their full extent, no matter the consequences.
To escape this prison, to free his mother.
But before he could, a thunderous sound flooded the entire place.
Boom!
The explosion made the ground tremble; everyone, whether prisoner or soldier, staggered, almost losing their balance. Erik blinked, bewildered, momentarily forgetting all his plans and turning towards the distance, where black smoke was beginning to rise.
In quick succession, more explosions from different directions began to flood the area, accompanied by the sounds of gunfire and screams reaching his ears.
"Enemy attack!" someone shouted, and absentmindedly, Erik realized that the one shouting was one of the German soldiers.
Wait... Enemy attack!? Erik snapped back to reality with force. Almost unconsciously, his powers kicked into action. The soldiers surrounding him didn't even have time to react when the barrels of their comrades' guns turned toward them, out of their control.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A dozen shots rang out, and in the next instant, bodies dropped lifeless to the ground. The Jewish prisoners in the yard stared in shock at the scene, not understanding what had just happened.
Erik licked his dry lips, his gaze resting for a moment on the corpses. This wasn't the first time he had killed someone, but it was the first time he did so fully consciously and deliberately. He thought something might change within him, that perhaps he would feel regret or guilt.
But all he felt was nothing.
With a flick of his hand, the soldiers' rifles flew through the air, landing in the hands of the prisoners.
Erik didn't give them a second glance; whether they took up the weapons and fought or cowered in fear wasn't his concern.
He had already given them everything they needed. Now he had to focus on his mission—he needed to find his mother. So, without hesitation, he began to run toward the direction where the women had been separated.
.
.
.
Always stay two steps ahead.
John had heard this phrase many times throughout his life. A simple phrase, but one that exemplified quite well what could be achieved when you moved the pieces on the board correctly, catching your opponent completely off guard.
John was not a master at it, his first attempt to achieve something like that was quite frustrated by the Red Skull, which irritated him quite a bit for a while, although in the end he had managed to take advantage of it in his own way.
Even if it had, at the same time, complicated things for everyone.
That's why he began to be more careful for his next attempt, making sure to get everything necessary to achieve a goal that, in theory, should have been impossible. The stage was set, as were the actors who would participate in it—he just needed to steer everything toward the expected conclusion.
How had he gone from actor to a pseudo-aspiring director? John had no idea. He preferred the show; acting came more naturally to him than directing. But if he wanted things to turn out right, he had no choice but to take the reins.
"I should charge more," he couldn't help but joke to himself.
"Charge what?" Cassandra, who had been standing beside him, asked with doubt, as she had heard him murmur.
"My salary. I think I should increase it. What do you think?" he asked, to which the girl rolled her eyes.
"You're the boss; you already have the best salary," she said as if that were a fact, and under normal circumstances, she would have been right.
"Actually, I make less than you."
At those words, Cassandra looked at him with confusion.
"I have a salary?"
Uh, it seemed he had forgotten to tell them that.
But before he could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed. The joviality vanished as both of them turned serious, looking toward the depths of the dark underground tunnel where they had been waiting while the others caused chaos on the surface.
Soon, a figure became visible, one carrying two large suitcases in his hands.
The footsteps slowed until they stopped. Sebastian Shaw looked at the man and woman standing in front of his escape route with bewilderment.
"How?" he asked with curiosity. Cassandra raised an eyebrow, noticing that there was no nervousness or fear in his expression.
"Well, I have a little birdie that helped me scout the area," John said with a smile.
In truth, planning this wouldn't have been as easy or quick without the help of Raven and Charles.
"Klaus Schmidt, it's said you're one of the best scientists in Germany, as well as one of the top biologists in the world. It's also said you've worked closely with Hydra and Dr. Arnim Zola." At the mention of this information, the so-called Klaus Schmidt appeared even more surprised.
"Well, we've had some creative differences recently," Shaw said, setting his suitcases on the ground and smoothing out his suit.
This whole situation had caught him by surprise. Not only did the enemy know his escape route, but they also seemed aware of his former association with Hydra—something only a select few should have known.
It seemed Captain America had once again exceeded his expectations.
Even so, Shaw wasn't worried. Knowing these things didn't really change much in the grand scheme.
"I must admit, your ability to orchestrate all of this is incredible. If it were anyone else in this situation, I'd say this would be the moment the game was decided—a perfect checkmate." As he spoke, Shaw began to roll up his sleeves.
"But I'm afraid I'll have to shatter that illusion." Shaw smiled. Captain America didn't know it yet, but the worst mistake he could have made was thinking Shaw was just a scientist. If he believed a trap like this could stop him, Shaw would have to teach him a harsh lesson.
With absolute confidence, he took a step forward, ready to force his way out and demonstrate his undeniable superiority.
Except... his foot didn't move.
'Huh?' Confused, he tried to move again, but once more, without success. He heard footsteps and saw John approaching, stopping in front of him with a relaxed look on his face.
"Sorry, Klaus, but shattering this illusion isn't something within your capabilities."
With that, John turned to see Charles emerge from the hiding spot where he had been waiting for the perfect moment.
"I was wondering when you'd shut him up; his smug expression was starting to annoy me," Cassandra said, walking up beside her brother, who was focusing intently on Shaw.
"Looks like everything went well. Good job, Charles," John praised the boy as the three of them stared at Shaw, frozen in place.
John genuinely thought it was a shame. He would have loved to have a big, spectacular final fight with the man. But Sebastian Shaw wasn't the kind of person you gave a chance to fight back. Too many things could go wrong, and John had learned not to take unnecessary risks.
That's why, after thinking it over carefully, he decided to end this in the best way possible, without giving the man the chance to fight at all.
It was a bit anticlimactic, but Shaw was never his great enemy to warrant anything different. He was just a future nuisance, better crushed in the cradle before he could create real problems.
"Extract all the information possible. Remember, don't let him regain mobility, or he could become a hassle."
Charles nodded, starting to concentrate and delve into Shaw's mind without any hesitation, making the man's body tremble as he collapsed to his knees, foam beginning to form at his mouth.
"If anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to act and kill him before he can do anything," John said, looking at Cassandra, who confidently nodded and pointed to herself.
"Don't worry, even without Charles I could have handled this on my own." Seeing her proud expression, John sighed with a hint of amusement before speaking again.
"Confidence is good, but too much confidence can get you killed, remember?" At that, Cassandra lost her smile. Even though some time had passed, it seemed John wouldn't let her forget her little mishap in Warsaw so easily.
"Just don't forget it, okay?" With that said, he couldn't help but ruffle her hair, much to her annoyance. Absently, John wondered if she would also end up bald in the future like her brother. That would certainly be an interesting sight.
There was a jolt followed by a distant rumble, John snapped out of his strange thoughts, focusing on the sounds coming from outside. It seemed the battle had started to intensify.
'Time to start the second act,' he thought as he tightened his grip on his shield. After all, he hadn't come here just to deal with Shaw.
He had also come to capture a certain master of magnetism and add him to his team if possible.
'At this rate, I'll become a real Pokémon master.'
.
.
.
Note:
The plot continues to advance, I've been thinking about starting to make some small time skips here and there, this chapter was a test of that, tell me what you think and if I should continue with this or opt to keep things as they were, being more "linear" with the events and the story.
Remember to comment and leave a like. If you notice any mistakes, please point them out so I can correct them.
Finally remember that You can already find the next chapter (and several more chapters) of this story on Patreon ( patreon.com/EmmaCruzader ) All the support received is appreciated ;D
A good strategist must always know when it's time to retreat.
Sebastian Shaw, or Klaus Schmidt as he was currently known, realized that the moment to leave Poland had arrived. It was unfortunate, as his research had yet to yield the results he expected or sought, but as a man who preferred to keep a low profile, he knew it was best to abandon ship when you could see it was about to sink.
And the Third Reich's ship was not only about to sink but also about to explode.
For others, perhaps it wasn't as clear. They thought the Third Reich still had a chance, that Hydra had a chance. But Shaw knew better: you cannot fight evolution, you cannot stop it or resist it.
Captain America and his new team of super-soldiers were evolution—perhaps not a natural evolution like the one Shaw sought, but evolution nonetheless, and something that would mark a new era for the world. and something Shaw longed to witness with his own eyes.
For those and many more reasons, he prepared to leave the concentration camp facilities in Auschwitz. If it were possible, he would have liked to stay a little longer. As one of the camp's principal scientists and a senior officer in charge, he had enjoyed considerable freedom to experiment, with all the test subjects he could ask for at hand—something he knew wouldn't be as easy to obtain elsewhere. Even so, as someone who preferred to remain in the shadows and work from the darkness, he opted not to face Captain America head-on, if it could be avoided.
He didn't fear the man or his team—Sebastian Shaw feared nothing. His power, his evolution, was superior. He was superior to everything. But making a scene by killing the "greatest hero" of this era didn't exactly fall within his definition of "discretion."
"Unfortunate," he couldn't help but murmur. He truly wanted to study his blood, to see if it was indeed something "artificial," or if, instead, the Americans had found a way to activate the hidden mutation deep within the DNA of a select few like himself. But whatever the answer, it could wait.
Everything has its time and place. Patience is not a virtue many can enjoy, but for someone who can defy the passage of time as he could, patience had become his greatest ally.
With that in mind, he thought perhaps it was time to head to the United States, take a small vacation, and relax a bit. He'd heard the nightclubs in Las Vegas were quite entertaining, and he had no shortage of money to spend on them—at least until this war ended and things calmed down a bit.
His musings were interrupted when he felt a slight tremor shake his office. It was very faint, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but not to him. Thanks to his power, he could sense that it wasn't a mere tremor; the kinetic energy behind it was more concentrated, more like a...
"Explosion?" He paused in his movements, glancing at his half-packed suitcase as different thoughts began to race through his mind.
Soon he heard the alarms blaring throughout the place, while a dozen more detonations caused the building he was in to start shaking. Distant screams and the sound of gunfire soon joined the chaos.
Shaw didn't rush. Despite the turmoil outside, his body began to move calmly once again, while in his mind he wondered how this was happening so soon.
He had heard the news, the reports. In recent days, Captain America's team had been sweeping through Poland with almost no resistance since Warsaw was liberated from Nazi occupation.
Even those "things" Hydra had begun deploying against them could barely slow their advance. Aberrant monstrosities that Shaw despised, deformities that defied nature itself. He had the chance to study some of them in recent days when Hydra brought them to Auschwitz, and everything he saw during that time repulsed him to his core.
For that reason, he knew this war was already decided. A "perfect" evolution would never lose to a forced, defective one that needed external technology to stay together and standing.
Still, it was undeniable that those things were "problematic." Shaw didn't know how many of those monstrosities Hydra had, but they couldn't be few. Even with his team, Captain America should have still been busy clearing out the nearest bases and concentration camps around Warsaw.
So why? Why could he hear Auschwitz extermination camp beginning to be attacked? For a moment, he considered that this didn't necessarily have to be Captain America's doing, but that thought was almost immediately dismissed. Shaw wouldn't entertain false hopes. In his opinion, only one person had the ability and means to invade a place as fortified as Auschwitz, and that was the super soldier who had liberated all of Warsaw in less than three days.
It seemed the reports he had been receiving were wrong, or something else had happened.
"The Lady of Luck hasn't smiled on me today," he thought with a hint of sarcasm. On the very day he decides to leave, Auschwitz is attacked—a coincidence that amused him slightly while also making his decision to abandon the German ship seem even more accurate in his mind.
If Captain America was advancing so quickly through Poland, then perhaps the Third Reich had even less time left than he had originally thought.
With one final motion, he closed his last suitcase and set off, deciding he could reflect on it all later. Right now, he needed to get out of here before the place was completely overrun.
Unbeknownst to Shaw, outside his office window, a crow, not much different from any other, watched him leave the room and began discreetly following his trail.
.
.
.
A few moments earlier.
"Get up!" The shout woke several prisoners as the doors of the building where they stayed were abruptly thrown open, soldiers storming in, yelling, and hitting anything in their path with batons.
On a bunk made of old wood, with only thin, torn rags as a mattress, Erik opened his eyes at the commotion. Even half-asleep, he didn't hesitate to stand alongside the others, quickly shaking off the lingering drowsiness while assessing the situation.
The guards who had barged in began herding everyone into the large courtyard, ordering them to form lines—something that had been happening with increasing frequency over the past week.
'Things are getting more tense,' it had started several days ago. Erik, like many others, didn't know exactly why, but the Nazi soldiers had become more irritable, more on edge. It was clear something was happening—something that worried and angered them—but no one dared ask because the last one who tried ended up with his head smashed against the ground.
A sight that haunted Erik's dreams for many nights.
Time was running out; the 16-year-old boy could feel it. More and more of them were disappearing, taken to who knows where, never to return. Erik had barely managed to avoid that fate, but as fewer people remained, it became harder to do so. He knew he would soon have to act.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Erik concentrated, felt that power within him flowing through every part of his being. As if it were a sixth sense, it traveled beyond his body like an invisible wave, extending and allowing him to feel all the metal around him with absurd ease, ready to bend to his will if he desired.
That's how he sensed one of the soldiers approaching where he was, weapon in hand. Erik opened his eyes and watched as the man walked with slow, measured steps, inspecting each prisoner in the line with sharp, bloodshot eyes.
Something was going to happen; survival instincts developed from his time as a prisoner told him so.
"Look at you, pathetic excuses for humans." The insult wasn't unexpected; in fact, it was quite common at this point. Even so, Erik felt his fists clench involuntarily.
He saw the soldier glaring with disdain at the prisoners, all of whom lowered their heads, fearing to provoke his wrath, accepting the insults without protest.
It was pathetic.
It was irritating.
It was unjust.
"You think you have a future? You think you'll ever get out of here?" the man mocked. He paused his walk for a moment, and from his mouth, a spit flew onto one of the prisoners' faces.
The prisoner trembled, the saliva running down his cheek. The soldier smiled, enjoying the sight, then continued walking until he reached the spot next to Erik. The boy saw from the corner of his eye how the soldier raised his weapon and with the barrel lifted the chin of the prisoner beside him to make him look him in the face.
"Tell me, animal, do you think you'll ever be free?" At such a question, the prisoner hesitated for a moment, his body trembling.
"Are you deaf?" the guard asked with feigned concern when he saw the hesitation.
"N-no, sir, I..." But before his words could finish, a strangled sound cut them off.
With bloodshot eyes, the prisoner stared at the barrel of the gun under his chin. At the same time, the guard also looked at his weapon in confusion, his finger pressed against the trigger.
For a moment, an uncomfortable silence filled the place. Then the guard laughed, lowering the barrel from the prisoner's chin. The man almost collapsed to his knees, urine staining his filthy pants, and unable to stop himself, he too began to laugh, tears streaming from his eyes.
Both men smiled at each other, but in the next instant, the guard's expression changed abruptly.
With blind fury, his fist flew forcefully towards the prisoner's face. Blood spurted as his lip split, and his powerless body fell to the ground.
"Do you think you're lucky, huh?!" the guard roared, causing all the prisoners around to tremble as they watched helplessly while their companion began to be beaten.
Erik bit the inside of his cheek as he felt his heart begin to race.
"Do you think it's funny? That I'm a joke?!" the guard kicked, making the prisoner writhe and try to curl into a ball to protect himself from the attacks, which only enraged the German more, who then decided to lift his rifle with both hands, ready to use it as an improvised club.
The weapon came down, but before it could strike, a hand reached out and, with ease that should have been impossible, stopped the blow cold.
"That's enough," a voice whispered, and the soldier looked to the side in confusion to see a pair of eyes filled with anger.
Erik felt his last shred of patience vanish. He had endured enough; he was no longer going to tolerate it. Just imagining that his mother might be suffering the same treatment made his heart freeze to an extreme, while at the same time, he felt his power clamor within him, begging to be used, pleading to be revealed to the world.
Fine, he could fulfill that desire. Without needing to look, he could sense how the other guards were becoming alert, how they raised their weapons, aiming at him, ready to shoot, to kill him.
The metal within dozens of meters around began to tremble slightly. Erik was ready. He had secretly trained enough; his powers now obeyed his commands to the letter, and he was willing to unleash them to their full extent, no matter the consequences.
To escape this prison, to free his mother.
But before he could, a thunderous sound flooded the entire place.
Boom!
The explosion made the ground tremble; everyone, whether prisoner or soldier, staggered, almost losing their balance. Erik blinked, bewildered, momentarily forgetting all his plans and turning towards the distance, where black smoke was beginning to rise.
In quick succession, more explosions from different directions began to flood the area, accompanied by the sounds of gunfire and screams reaching his ears.
"Enemy attack!" someone shouted, and absentmindedly, Erik realized that the one shouting was one of the German soldiers.
Wait... Enemy attack!? Erik snapped back to reality with force. Almost unconsciously, his powers kicked into action. The soldiers surrounding him didn't even have time to react when the barrels of their comrades' guns turned toward them, out of their control.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A dozen shots rang out, and in the next instant, bodies dropped lifeless to the ground. The Jewish prisoners in the yard stared in shock at the scene, not understanding what had just happened.
Erik licked his dry lips, his gaze resting for a moment on the corpses. This wasn't the first time he had killed someone, but it was the first time he did so fully consciously and deliberately. He thought something might change within him, that perhaps he would feel regret or guilt.
But all he felt was nothing.
With a flick of his hand, the soldiers' rifles flew through the air, landing in the hands of the prisoners.
Erik didn't give them a second glance; whether they took up the weapons and fought or cowered in fear wasn't his concern.
He had already given them everything they needed. Now he had to focus on his mission—he needed to find his mother. So, without hesitation, he began to run toward the direction where the women had been separated.
.
.
.
Always stay two steps ahead.
John had heard this phrase many times throughout his life. A simple phrase, but one that exemplified quite well what could be achieved when you moved the pieces on the board correctly, catching your opponent completely off guard.
John was not a master at it, his first attempt to achieve something like that was quite frustrated by the Red Skull, which irritated him quite a bit for a while, although in the end he had managed to take advantage of it in his own way.
Even if it had, at the same time, complicated things for everyone.
That's why he began to be more careful for his next attempt, making sure to get everything necessary to achieve a goal that, in theory, should have been impossible. The stage was set, as were the actors who would participate in it—he just needed to steer everything toward the expected conclusion.
How had he gone from actor to a pseudo-aspiring director? John had no idea. He preferred the show; acting came more naturally to him than directing. But if he wanted things to turn out right, he had no choice but to take the reins.
"I should charge more," he couldn't help but joke to himself.
"Charge what?" Cassandra, who had been standing beside him, asked with doubt, as she had heard him murmur.
"My salary. I think I should increase it. What do you think?" he asked, to which the girl rolled her eyes.
"You're the boss; you already have the best salary," she said as if that were a fact, and under normal circumstances, she would have been right.
"Actually, I make less than you."
At those words, Cassandra looked at him with confusion.
"I have a salary?"
Uh, it seemed he had forgotten to tell them that.
But before he could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed. The joviality vanished as both of them turned serious, looking toward the depths of the dark underground tunnel where they had been waiting while the others caused chaos on the surface.
Soon, a figure became visible, one carrying two large suitcases in his hands.
The footsteps slowed until they stopped. Sebastian Shaw looked at the man and woman standing in front of his escape route with bewilderment.
"How?" he asked with curiosity. Cassandra raised an eyebrow, noticing that there was no nervousness or fear in his expression.
"Well, I have a little birdie that helped me scout the area," John said with a smile.
In truth, planning this wouldn't have been as easy or quick without the help of Raven and Charles.
"Klaus Schmidt, it's said you're one of the best scientists in Germany, as well as one of the top biologists in the world. It's also said you've worked closely with Hydra and Dr. Arnim Zola." At the mention of this information, the so-called Klaus Schmidt appeared even more surprised.
"Well, we've had some creative differences recently," Shaw said, setting his suitcases on the ground and smoothing out his suit.
This whole situation had caught him by surprise. Not only did the enemy know his escape route, but they also seemed aware of his former association with Hydra—something only a select few should have known.
It seemed Captain America had once again exceeded his expectations.
Even so, Shaw wasn't worried. Knowing these things didn't really change much in the grand scheme.
"I must admit, your ability to orchestrate all of this is incredible. If it were anyone else in this situation, I'd say this would be the moment the game was decided—a perfect checkmate." As he spoke, Shaw began to roll up his sleeves.
"But I'm afraid I'll have to shatter that illusion." Shaw smiled. Captain America didn't know it yet, but the worst mistake he could have made was thinking Shaw was just a scientist. If he believed a trap like this could stop him, Shaw would have to teach him a harsh lesson.
With absolute confidence, he took a step forward, ready to force his way out and demonstrate his undeniable superiority.
Except... his foot didn't move.
'Huh?' Confused, he tried to move again, but once more, without success. He heard footsteps and saw John approaching, stopping in front of him with a relaxed look on his face.
"Sorry, Klaus, but shattering this illusion isn't something within your capabilities."
With that, John turned to see Charles emerge from the hiding spot where he had been waiting for the perfect moment.
"I was wondering when you'd shut him up; his smug expression was starting to annoy me," Cassandra said, walking up beside her brother, who was focusing intently on Shaw.
"Looks like everything went well. Good job, Charles," John praised the boy as the three of them stared at Shaw, frozen in place.
John genuinely thought it was a shame. He would have loved to have a big, spectacular final fight with the man. But Sebastian Shaw wasn't the kind of person you gave a chance to fight back. Too many things could go wrong, and John had learned not to take unnecessary risks.
That's why, after thinking it over carefully, he decided to end this in the best way possible, without giving the man the chance to fight at all.
It was a bit anticlimactic, but Shaw was never his great enemy to warrant anything different. He was just a future nuisance, better crushed in the cradle before he could create real problems.
"Extract all the information possible. Remember, don't let him regain mobility, or he could become a hassle."
Charles nodded, starting to concentrate and delve into Shaw's mind without any hesitation, making the man's body tremble as he collapsed to his knees, foam beginning to form at his mouth.
"If anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to act and kill him before he can do anything," John said, looking at Cassandra, who confidently nodded and pointed to herself.
"Don't worry, even without Charles I could have handled this on my own." Seeing her proud expression, John sighed with a hint of amusement before speaking again.
"Confidence is good, but too much confidence can get you killed, remember?" At that, Cassandra lost her smile. Even though some time had passed, it seemed John wouldn't let her forget her little mishap in Warsaw so easily.
"Just don't forget it, okay?" With that said, he couldn't help but ruffle her hair, much to her annoyance. Absently, John wondered if she would also end up bald in the future like her brother. That would certainly be an interesting sight.
There was a jolt followed by a distant rumble, John snapped out of his strange thoughts, focusing on the sounds coming from outside. It seemed the battle had started to intensify.
'Time to start the second act,' he thought as he tightened his grip on his shield. After all, he hadn't come here just to deal with Shaw.
He had also come to capture a certain master of magnetism and add him to his team if possible.
'At this rate, I'll become a real Pokémon master.'
.
.
.
Note:
The plot continues to advance, I've been thinking about starting to make some small time skips here and there, this chapter was a test of that, tell me what you think and if I should continue with this or opt to keep things as they were, being more "linear" with the events and the story.
Remember to comment and leave a like. If you notice any mistakes, please point them out so I can correct them.
Finally remember that You can already find the next chapter (and several more chapters) of this story on Patreon ( patreon.com/EmmaCruzader ) All the support received is appreciated ;D
