regular soldiers on their team
Yes, I understand that the non-super soldiers are calling the various metas 'super,' it's just that you maybe should say 'abbreviation' instead of 'acronym,' here, or something similar, because slang, abbreviation, shorthand, nicknames, they're all short for something, whereas an acronym would be, like, S.U.P.E.R. short for something.

I might not be explaining myself that well. I like your stories very much, and that was just something from the chapter that stuck out to me, a very minor quibble of little consequence.
 
regular soldiers on their team

Acronym is a reduction method of using the first letters of the word or phrase you want to reduce to form a new word.

F.B.I - Federal Bureal of Investigation
C.I.A - Central Intelligence Agency
S.W.O.R.D - Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department

Those are acronyms.

Other guy is right, if you meant the soldiers started calling them super as a short form of supersoldiers, then you wanted to say they shorthanded it or gave them a nickname.
 
27: Sin
27: Sin

Explosions shook the place violently, a torrential rain of bullets headed in her direction, but agile as the wind, Raven slipped away, running through the rubble of what was once a tall building.

The battle for the liberation of Warsaw had already lasted six hours, and half of the city had been successfully taken by the Armia Krajowa (AK) led by John and his team.

Supply bases, headquarters, bunkers, and transport routes, everything had been hit swiftly and forcefully. Raven had personally blown up dozens of Nazi vehicles, placing explosives in them before it all began.

Saying that the Nazi army had been caught off guard would be an understatement; they were completely unprepared, and to make matters worse, all their attempts to counterattack were quickly thwarted.

Raven reloaded her weapon and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a long breath, letting different types of smells flood her nostrils in an instant. Then, she opened her eyes and quickly left her cover, firing her weapon dozens of times even without fully turning to aim. In the distance, several bodies that had been hidden suddenly let out grunts as the bullets unexpectedly struck them.

"Path clear," she said, turning to look at a dozen civilians who had been hiding from the "purge" that the Nazis had started when the rebellion struck.

Blood and dust covered them; she could see the fear in their eyes, but she also saw the light in them—the hope, the gratitude.

She didn't speak their language, but she didn't need to. She could understand their thanks, and she quickly guided them to a safe place while taking care of any enemy that crossed her path.

Soon, they joined an AK team, and she let them escort the civilians while she prepared to return to her main mission.

Before parting ways, a girl of about 6 years old, who had been with the group of civilians, ran toward her and gave her a hug. Raven looked at her in confusion until her mother hurried over and reached for her. The woman offered something resembling an apology and began to carry the girl in her arms, but before being taken away, the girl quickly pulled out a red flower and offered it to her. Not knowing what else to do, Raven accepted the gift and watched the group leave until they disappeared from sight.

Then she looked down and stared at the flower in her hand. It was similar to a rose, somewhat battered and with clear signs of dust and dirt on it, but it could still be seen that it had been carefully plucked from the ground.

"Do whatever it takes to ensure the well-being and safety of those who can't fight for themselves, huh?" she recalled the words John had said to her, something that seemed so distant but had actually happened not too long ago.

Raven thought she understood it back then, that she knew what he was talking about, but… here and now, she could truly say she understood. She could see what he meant, and a weight she didn't know had been on her heart vanished like ashes in the wind.

Everything they did, the lives they took, it was all for something, for a greater purpose. A resolve that was already ironclad became even stronger, and with a burning fire in her chest, Raven rushed to the battlefield once again.

.

.

.

Franz Kutschera gritted his teeth, holding his injured arm and lowering the radio he had used to send the last report to Hydra.

Things had gone terribly wrong in every aspect. Warsaw, the city they believed was entirely theirs, had overnight become a brutal battlefield, one where Germany was quickly losing ground.

Many reasons, many excuses could be given. Franz could blame Captain America and the monsters he had brought with him, that crazy masked woman who turned his soldiers into pretzels, or the beast with bone claws that shredded everything in its path.

But the truth was that something else was happening. Somehow, their enemies seemed to be one step ahead of them all the time. Every attempt to counter, every new strategy sent to his men—somehow, they knew about it shortly afterward and used it against them to lead the Polish resistance to victories never before seen.

If things continued like this, they would lose Warsaw in less than two days, and Franz was not going to allow that. Without hesitation, he sent the alert to Hydra. Warsaw didn't have as much of a Hydra presence as other places, but they still had some of their advanced weapons and technology. Even so, that didn't help much since there were too few of them, and most were already in the hands of the AK, being used against their rightful owners, which, of course, worsened the situation even further.

Now, he could only hope that the help arriving would be the best of the best. Even if the entire Warsaw was destroyed in the battle, he believed it was a fair price if they could eliminate Captain America and his freaks. His faith in Hydra and its superior technology prevented him from understanding that these hopes were mere illusions.

The hidden room trembled. Explosions after explosions shook the place, causing dust to fall. Franz snapped out of his thoughts and frowned, preparing his weapon as he heard the conflict drawing nearer.

His time had run out; they were here. But Franz wouldn't give them the satisfaction of ending him—no... he would do it on his terms. He looked at his weapon, the dark barrel now pointed at his head.

"Hail Hyd—" his words were cut off. Franz, who was about to pull the trigger, couldn't stop the panic and fear from flooding him. What was happening? Why couldn't he move?!

He tried, he really did, but his body wouldn't obey his commands. Still as a statue, he watched as the door to the room was forcibly opened, and a man with eyes as blue as the sea and a mocking smile on his face stepped forward.

When the light of the room illuminated the star on his chest, Franz knew that it was all over, that even in death, he had lost.

"I must admit, out of all of them, you were the hardest to catch—like a cockroach slipping through the cracks. I really admire your ability to run, you know?" Captain America spoke casually, stepping in and sitting down in front of Franz. Following him was a group of men dressed differently from the soldiers.

Perhaps the one who stood out the most was a young man, one wearing an iron mask that covered the lower half of his face, who was pointing at Franz with his hand, clearly concentrating.

Was his strange condition this man's doing? Franz, who knew he was already dead, couldn't help but wonder. He had heard about the monsters, the freaks that followed Captain America, but the reports hadn't mentioned any who could paralyze you like this. Then again, now that he thought about it, it made sense—how could you report something like this when you couldn't even blink?

"Get everything you can out of him. There's a lot of special communication equipment here, more advanced than usual. He must have done something, though judging by this emblem, I already have an idea," John said to Charles as he looked at the hidden Hydra symbol among the radio equipment in the room.

"Hey Gabe, take a look at this," he called to a dark-skinned man who hurried to his side and began examining the radio equipment with fascination.

"Can you take it apart?" John asked while watching Charles approach Franz and place both hands on his head.

"It's very different from any equipment I've seen, but… yeah, I think I can take it," Gabe Jones said after a moment of deep thought.

"In that case, I'll let the boys give you a hand here," John said, gesturing to Steve and Bucky, who were standing guard.

"Oh come on, Cap, we're more than just grunts, you know?" Bucky quipped, though he still moved to help Gabe.

Steve, for his part, gave Franz one last look, noticing the slight convulsions, before turning away with a frown and moving over to join Gabe.

"I know, Barnes. You're elite soldiers, but even elite soldiers have to pitch in." Of course, John didn't stay idle and began searching the entire place, looking to see if he could find anything. He read through documents, reports, and searched among the books, but there wasn't much to find.

Charles took a deep breath and staggered back, his hands trembling, sweat dripping down his face. Looking into minds like Franz's… it was hard, very hard. Charles had seen things in them that he wished he could forget, things that made him deeply hate those who were his enemies, whether it was the Third Reich, the soldiers in its army, or Hydra. Charles had seen only the worst things one could imagine being committed without hesitation—horrors that he knew would haunt his sleep for years to come.

So much death, pain, and suffering, and for what?

He shook his head; this wasn't the time for reflection.

"Hydra could arrive soon. He gave them all the information he could gather and requested as much help as possible," he summarized what he had seen in Franz's most recent memories.

"Did they give a date? A location? Any names? How many troops will they send, and what kind of weapons?" John asked, approaching Franz, who was now drooling and staring blankly. Charles hadn't been gentle with his mind, and the man was now nothing more than a piece of flesh without thoughts.

John took his weapon and, without hesitation, put a bullet in Franz's head. In his state, the man was nothing but a waste of oxygen, after all.

"No, they didn't tell him much. They just agreed to his request. Franz didn't even know who he was talking to," Charles said, frowning. His main task was to get as much information as possible, and not being able to do so frustrated him a bit.

"So they're playing mysterious, huh? Fine. We'll prepare for whatever they have in store. Good work so far. I know it's been tough, but your help has been invaluable," John patted Charles on the shoulder, clear gratitude in his eyes. Charles took a deep breath and nodded, giving him a shaky smile.

"Sir… if possible, I'd like to check on my sister," he finally said. Several hours had passed since the battle started, and although he had heard news of her, he couldn't help but want to see for himself that she was okay.

John looked at him and nodded understandingly.

"All right, let's check on the other teams. We'll regroup and speed things up a bit. I don't know what Hydra is planning, but I'd rather we weren't scattered and separated by the time that happens."

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.

.

Not far from Warsaw, in one of Hydra's numerous bases.

The officer in charge, Hermann Erwin, stared at the package that had been delivered to his base not long ago, his thoughts unknown.

"Prepare one of the cargo planes," he said to his men, who stood several steps behind him, clear fear in their eyes.

"S-sir?" one of them asked, but Hermann cut him off before he could continue.

"You heard me. I want the cargo plane prepared. We need to deliver a package." His words were harsh and cold, leaving no room for further discussion. His men, though fearful, nodded and began the preparations.

His most loyal assistant approached him with clear nervousness and couldn't help but ask a question, despite knowing he shouldn't.

"Are we really… are we truly going to release these things, sir?" he asked, licking his lips and glancing at the monstrosities chained inside the numerous cells.

"Do you think we have another choice?" Hermann replied calmly. If any other soldier had asked such a question, he would have killed them for doubting him. But his assistant had been by his side for a long time, and there was a certain level of trust between them. He didn't mind that the man had doubts because, deep inside, Hermann had them too.

"If we don't do it, someone else will, Karl. These things have been sent to all the major Hydra bases in the country. This war… this war is no longer for humans, and it's better if we understand that now, old friend," his voice faded slightly at the end.

Karl remained silent before nodding. He looked at the chained monsters, which remained still as statues, though still breathing heavily, and couldn't help but pray silently. He prayed to the gods for forgiveness, for they were committing a terrible sin.

They were releasing demons upon the earth, and the consequences could be devastating.

.

.

.

Cassandra took a deep breath, feeling the exhaustion weighing on her shoulders. Sweat covered her forehead, and her once neatly styled hair was now disheveled, filled with dust and dirt.

Such an intense battle that had lasted so long was finally taking its toll, even though she hadn't been injured even once. It was frustrating, not being able to continue enjoying the use of her powers because her flesh-and-blood body needed rest. She was really starting to envy John now; having a physique like his would undoubtedly make things easier.

She waved her hand, and one of the remaining German army vehicles rushing toward her direction was overturned. Cassandra would have liked to crush it, but shots came toward her, forcing her to divert her attention. She felt a drop of sweat enter her eye, causing a sharp sting, and she was nearly hit by a dozen bullets. She shouldn't have separated so much from the others!

She scolded herself. She had let her confidence in her abilities blind her and had decided that she could handle the enemy army better if she didn't have to constantly look after others. So she separated from her group and began to act alone, which was effective at first.

But in the excitement, she forgot that even if she could crush steel with her mind, her body was still that of an ordinary human.

"Fuck!" she growled when a piece of debris hit her side. Really? She could deflect bullets, and a damn rock was the first thing to hurt her? At least the suit she wore protected her fairly well from the damage. At first, she had complained a bit about having to wear it, but now she really liked it.

She took cover behind a half-collapsed wall and began to plan her next move while the enemy soldiers tried to hunt her down.

She had gotten herself into this, and she needed to get out of it. It would be embarrassing if she died from stupidity like this; her brother would surely mock her until he too died.

Cassandra took a deep breath. Her head hurt quite a bit. Using her powers with such intensity and for so long had also begun to take its own toll in another way. Not being accustomed to using them in the way she had been, Cassandra had reached her current "limit."

Her telekinesis felt a bit clumsier than usual, so elegant and precise movements were off the table for now. She needed to be explosive, using simple and forceful moves that would help her carve a path to her team or one of the other teams. That way, she could rest a bit and regain her strength.

"Alright, let's do this," she clenched her fists and emerged from her hiding spot.

Immediately, a dozen soldiers aimed and fired at her. Cassandra raised her hand, causing a metal door that had been among the debris to fly up and absorb all the bullets. Then she ran, waving both arms and creating a powerful gust of wind that knocked the soldiers down, sending them rolling several meters across the ground.

With the path clear, she continued running, making sure to be more cautious than before. Using the terrain to her advantage to avoid the shots, she quickly advanced out of the area where she had been surrounded.

Of course, her enemies didn't sit idly by and began chasing her like rabid dogs. Clearly, they had realized she was weaker than before and believed they had finally found the opportunity to kill her.

Cassandra nearly stumbled as she turned a corner, her eyes widening slightly as she saw a group of Nazi soldiers aiming and firing at her almost instantly.

She hastily raised her hand to deflect the bullets, barely managing to do so successfully. But her relief was short-lived as she almost too late noticed a grenade that had been thrown in her direction. Without hesitation, she raised her hand to deflect the explosive, but before she could, a metallic object flew through the air at great speed, striking the grenade and causing it to explode prematurely.

"I thought I told you clearly to stay by james' side." John's somewhat irritated voice made Cassandra let out a sigh of relief she didn't even know she was holding.

From the smoke of the explosion, the shield came bouncing back into its owner's hands, and without hesitation, John grabbed it and, in the next instant, hurled it again at the enemy soldiers.

The men didn't even have time to scream before their bodies were sliced in half by the metal disc, which spun in the air before returning once more to John's hand.

The super-soldier looked at the blood on his shield with some annoyance, then shook it off with a strong movement before stepping forward, dropping down from the half-collapsed building where he had been, and landing in front of Cassandra.

"Are you aware that disobedience to a superior officer's orders is punished severely?"

Cassandra looked at him with a crooked smile hidden by the mask she wore, but even so, John could see a hint of rebellion in her eyes. He knew bringing her along might cause some problems, but he hadn't expected it to happen so soon. She seemed much more sensible than this.

"Do you want me to apologize, Captain?" Cassandra spoke in an almost mocking tone.

John wanted to sigh but knew he needed to make her understand that she couldn't keep doing this.

"If apologies could fix anything, this world wouldn't be what it is," he said, gesturing around at the destroyed area, filled with signs of war.

"You put your life at unnecessary risk and abandoned your comrades. I know you're not exactly a soldier, but you're under my command, and I gave you clear orders. If you can't follow them, we'll have a problem." This time, Cassandra frowned deeply.

"What are you going to do? Send me back home?" she asked with a hint of aggression, but John shook his head.

"Do you want to go back home?" he asked. She didn't say anything, but her refusal was clear.

"I'm only telling you this because you need to remember that your life is valuable. Don't throw it away when there are people who care about you, waiting for you. If I had to return with your body in my hands, I wouldn't even be able to look your brother in the eyes. More importantly, I'm responsible for bringing you here, and if you had died, the blame would be mine alone." He paused for a moment, and for some reason, Cassandra felt like he was saying that more to himself than to her.

"So, in a way, your life is also valuable to me. Which is why, from now on, until you learn to behave, you're going to stick with me," John finally said, leaving her looking at him, puzzled.

But he didn't give her time to protest. He approached her and lifted her onto his shoulder as if she were a sack of potatoes, carrying her effortlessly.

"Hey!" Cassandra protested a bit, but John no longer paid attention, starting to carry her toward where the others were.

She kicked a little more but was too tired to keep protesting, so she reluctantly stayed still, staring into nothingness.

'My life is valuable?' Cassandra couldn't help but ponder this. Her mother and father had never thought of her that way, right? To them, she had only existed as a bargaining chip. Charles had been the only person who cared for her in some way, but even he hadn't done anything to change her situation.

in the end the one who had presented her with the opportunity to change things, even if it hadn't been his initial intention, was John and she owed him for that wasn't she?

"Fine," she finally said, making him raise an eyebrow.

"I'll behave," she said almost in a whisper, and John smiled.

"And I'll make sure of it."

At those words, Cassandra raised an eyebrow.

"Or what? are you going to punish me?" she said mockingly, as if she had already forgotten her previous words, even though she had said them just a second ago.

John nearly rolled his eyes. Why could women be so contradictory?

"I'm going to selectively forget you said that," he replied, to which Cassandra laughed, but wisely decided it was better not to push her luck any further. She stayed still, resting now that she knew nothing bad could happen to her.

After all, Captain America was looking out for her.

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Note:

Well, well, well, a new chapter! I'll admit I took a bit of time to bring it out because yesterday I spent the day rereading all of Supersoldier (or at least trying to). I got up to chapter 15, and let me tell you, whoever wrote all that was an imbecile… oh wait, that was me! Seriously though, I didn't expect to enjoy reading something I wrote myself, but I did, which was a bit surprising, to be honest.

leaving aside self-fellation, I really felt the urge to add or rewrite a lot of scenes or parts of the chapters, haha. Something I've heard happens to all authors who write things—who knew, right?

But we can't change what's already done, so we can only keep moving forward and make what's coming even better. and I am very glad to have so many people attentive to it, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing.

As always, feel free to comment, share your suggestions or ideas, and if there are any errors, please point them out so I can fix 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
 
It's amazing what kind of semi-unhinged allies you can get for the good guys with a promise of an excess of acceptable targets
 
With how awful this time and place in history is. It is impressive how wel written and enjoyable this has been.
As an outsider you want to stop the camps as quickly as possible.
As a fiction reader you´re interested in character development and plot.
As a fan of Marvel you get curious about what other known and new characters will be involved.
What makes or breaks the story is how amoral wil John become or act.
 
This fic has been excellent, love the uniqueness of John's Anti-Heroic nature. Genuinely interested in saving people but also utterly ruthless and goal oriented.
 
28: Höllenkrieger
28: Höllenkrieger

"How could you be so irresponsible?!" Charles wanted to shout, he really did, but he knew losing his temper wasn't appropriate at the moment. Still, that didn't stop him from giving his sister a serious, hard look.

Shrugging, Cassandra, who had been brought to the central camp of the Ak by John, looked at Charles and rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on, everything turned out fine, look, not even a scratch." To prove her point, the girl stood up and spun around gracefully. Her dance practices, though boring, had given her a certain elegance in her movements.

"That's not the point," Charles sighed. Only God knew how mortified he had been when he and John met up with James' team, only to discover that his sister had rushed completely alone into enemy territory.

Fortunately, John had moved quickly and brought her back. Of course, the super-soldier hadn't said what state he found her in, or if she had been in trouble, but it was easy for Charles to deduce that his sister hadn't been having the best time. Her disheveled appearance was the most obvious sign—she was someone who preferred to look "elegant" and would do anything to maintain that.

The fact that she couldn't stay clean told him she had been in more trouble than she was willing to admit.

Seeing the two siblings argue made James, who was observing the general situation of the camp from not too far away on top of one of the half-collapsed buildings, feel somewhat nostalgic.

He wouldn't say it out loud, even if they tried to force him, but in a way, James was starting to miss his brother—kind of fucked up considering they usually fought almost all the time over silly things.

Still, they had always been there for each other, in the bad times and the worse ones.

'Just hang on a little longer, Victor,' he thought as he watched the camp where they were stationed from his elevated position. Almost eight hours had passed since the battle began, and everything was going as well as it could.

They had pushed the Nazi army back beyond the river that splits the city in two, completely taking over the Wola district and a few others. James would say the special team he was part of was the reason, but the truth was, it was the people of Warsaw who made everything move even faster than expected.

When the civilians realized what was happening, they didn't hesitate. Even if they had no weapons, even if they weren't soldiers, they provided all the help they could, making the battle much easier and tipping the scales in favor of the AK (Armia Krajowa).

John was right when he said they only needed to be the war hammer and let the Polish citizens do the rest. At this rate, they could soon completely drive the Nazi occupation out of the city. Then, they would sweep through the surrounding areas and could begin their true mission—rescuing Victor, stopping Hydra, and saving millions of lives.

James had always been a wanderer, in the conflicts he had been involved in throughout history, even just a mercenary. He never really imagined he'd end up involved in something as big as this. He had always lived day by day, never really thinking about the future, because when you had all the time in the world, did the future really matter?

Looking at all the civilians who had been rescued during the conflict, with bright smiles on their faces and hope blossoming in their eyes... James realized that maybe his future didn't matter much, but the future of others? Maybe that future did matter.

"I see you're deep in thought." John's voice pulled him out of his reflections, though he had already sensed his approach. He turned to see him extending his hand with a cigarette in it. James took it and let the man light it with the lighter he carried.

Then he took a long drag, letting the smoke flood his lungs for a moment before exhaling and answering his question.

"Just thinking about the future, bub," he admitted.

John raised an eyebrow but didn't comment much on that. In fact, he had only come here to update James on a few things. Although the man participated in most of the meetings, there were moments when he simply went off and did his own thing, so John had to find him and bring him up to speed.

"Well, the near future dictates that Hydra will do something soon. One of their members managed to send a message with a lot of information before we got to him." John didn't beat around the bush, and hearing this, James frowned. Things couldn't keep going well forever, could they?

"Do we know what it is?"

"No, and I don't want to give them time to disrupt our plans. So, we're speeding things up a bit more. I've already talked to the AK leaders. We'll rest and prepare for about four hours, then we'll attack with everything we've got. Before Hydra arrives, we'll make sure to clear Warsaw of the Nazi occupation, and after that, we'll take care of them without anything in our way."

Hydra was something unpredictable at this point, and John no longer wanted to keep playing with them as he had initially intended. That's why he had been preparing so many things, gathering so much influence and support—he had decided to cover all possible fronts if something went wrong, which, of course, was the last thing he wanted.

There was a flutter in the air, and a familiar crow came from the sky, its form changing mid-flight to land gracefully beside John.

"You were right—they tried to take advantage of the night for an ambush at one of the camps," Raven said with some annoyance, as that camp had mostly been filled with civilians.

"Since you don't seem too angry, that means everything went well."

"The commandos are as good as you said they'd be. They took care of most of it and secured the area easily." Raven had gone with Steve, Bucky, and the other members of what John had named the Howling Commandos, a somewhat strange name in her opinion, but she wouldn't say that out loud.

At first, Raven had been very doubtful about John's choice to bring them along. They were just ordinary men, after all. John already had her, James, and the Xavier siblings, so why would he need them? Still, she said nothing because John always did things for a reason, and as always, he had proven to be right once again.

The commandos had exceeded her expectations. They weren't just ordinary men; they were true soldiers capable of fighting battles that would be almost impossible for others. They worked very well as a team, even if they hadn't known each other for long. Raven realized she had been too full of herself when she saw them in action and knew she still had a lot to learn—a lesson in humility that frustrated her a bit but one she accepted, suspecting that John had sent her with them to see this.

Of course, John had no idea Raven thought that. In fact, he had only sent her with them as insurance in case things got complicated, though he didn't believe they would, and well, in the end, he was right. So, yes, if anyone asked, he would undoubtedly say everything was within his plans.

"All right, go rest. In four hours, we'll begin the final assault, and I need you to be ready," John told her, to which she nodded and left, leaving the two men alone once more. During the entire exchange, she hadn't looked in James's direction even once.

"Does that girl have something against me?" James couldn't help but ask suddenly, causing John to blink in confusion before giving him an apologetic smile.

Even John didn't really know why Raven didn't seem to like James. He figured the girl simply didn't care for the man, and that was that—something he could somewhat understand. Not because he disliked James—on the contrary, he quite liked the guy—but because he had also encountered people he just couldn't stand without any real reason. Of course, John could fake it pretty well around them so they wouldn't notice, something Raven still needed to learn.

"Don't think too much about it. Women are too complicated to try to figure out," John said, to which James could only agree, having known so many women throughout his long life.

"Come on, the food should be ready by now. It's better if our stomachs are full before the fight." With that, the two of them headed down to join the others, awaiting the conflict to come.

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.

.

The battle had begun in the middle of the night and stretched into the morning, only stopping when noon arrived after eight hours of continuous fighting. Such action by the AK put the remaining forces of the Third Reich on edge, now in a state of chaos. After all, many of their key commanding officers had fallen into the hands of John and Charles, dealing a severe blow to their logistics, which could do nothing but teeter like a house of cards missing several key supports.

Wolfgang, who hadn't been the second or even third choice but the fourth to take command of the SS troops and German police that had managed to regroup before everything went to hell, couldn't help but rub his forehead in frustration.

"Resist?" he said through gritted teeth, glaring at the long-range radio equipment as if he wanted to melt it with his gaze.

How were they supposed to resist with damn Captain America in the city?!

He wanted to tear his hair out, kick something, kill something, but wisely held back and took a deep breath.

It felt like they were being abandoned, as if the Reich had written them off as dead. He knew that wasn't the case—he'd heard the news about how the Allies had begun intensifying their attacks since the Reich lost Italy. Even the damned Soviets had started acting like rabid dogs. Damn communists!

Reinforcements would come; Wolfgang was confident of that. The problem was they wouldn't arrive soon, and even if they did, what could they do? How could they stand against a man who could destroy tanks like they were toys?

Pessimism filled Wolfgang's thoughts, but so did an unprecedented bloodlust. He wasn't going to die uselessly; he refused that fate. Even if it was the last thing he did, he would make his enemies suffer, down to the last man, woman, or child. He would drag them all to hell with him.

Wolfgang hadn't been the second or even third choice for command. Someone more qualified would have devised a wiser plan or strategy, someone more astute would have led his men to resist for as long as possible. But those people were the ones John had personally dispatched along with Charles. The most qualified had long since died, leaving behind only men like Wolfgang—men who were just soldiers, who had grown too accustomed to killing.

Men who lived solely by and for war.

"Sir, there are still no signs of movement," the voice of one of his men pulled Wolfgang from his thoughts.

"It's been almost four hours; they must be planning something. We can't let them keep the upper hand. Pass my command—have the men start preparing. We'll launch the attack before they do." With nothing left to lose and willing to do anything, Wolfgang decided to take the initiative.

In the years to come, this decision would be remembered as the final nail in the coffin of the Nazi occupation in Warsaw.

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.

.

John might have said it was unexpected, but with James and himself present, hearing the enemy begin to approach, trying to catch them off guard, was almost comical in a way—like a bad joke, really. They were shortening their already limited time when they could have taken so many other options…

John might have felt pity for them if he hadn't seen the traces of the atrocities they had committed. Before his arrival, approximately five hundred thousand Jews had been murdered—elderly, young, women, and children. No one was spared, and their corpses littered what had been the old ghetto created to imprison and separate them like animals from the rest of the people.

So no, John didn't feel bad about what was about to happen.

The Armia Krajowa was quickly notified, and all the members of the resistance were ready in no time. In addition to them, many civilians rose up, joining their ranks and taking up the weapons that had been stolen during the initial conflict. Even if they lacked much equipment or proper military uniforms, you could still see a band of white and red on the arms of all of them, clearly representing which side they belonged to.

But perhaps the most unexpected thing was that some of them had drawn, sewn, or marked a large white star on some part of their clothing or bodies.

When John saw this, he was momentarily stunned. After all, he hadn't done anything to make this happen, yet he couldn't help but smile once he processed it. Wasn't this what he had been striving for? To be more than just a hero?

To be a symbol…

In a way, seeing this begin to take shape made his shoulders feel heavier than usual. These people, these individuals—what did they think of him? Why were they doing this? Was he even worthy of it?

Perhaps the most disappointing realization was that no, he wasn't worthy of their trust, of the hope they placed in him. But even if he wasn't worthy, that didn't mean he intended to let them down. After all, his role was clear. Even if the man carrying the shield was hollow inside, outwardly, he was still real. He could still save them. He could still give them hope…

"We're ready, Captain," Tadeusz Bór said as he approached, standing beside him as they both surveyed the city from the top of one of the buildings they had used as a headquarters.

John took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his shield. It was time to fulfill his role.

"Then let's begin."

In an extremely swift motion, John hurled his shield. The aerodynamic object flew through the air, creating a supersonic boom as it broke the sound barrier. Its trajectory led it to a row of "hidden" tanks that had been preparing to attack the AK troops as they began to cross the river that separated the two sides.

Like a hot knife through butter, the thick armor of the tanks was pierced by the unbreakable metal of the shield, and in a row, dozens of tanks began to explode one after another, shaking the ground.

Taking this as their signal, the rebel army roared, causing the battlefield to tremble. Then, like an unstoppable wave, they began to advance with firm, heavy steps.

John raised his arm, heard the air being displaced, and in a practiced motion, he caught his shield as it returned to him like a boomerang.

Tadeusz Bór, standing beside him, couldn't help but look in awe at the feat John had performed. So much power in the hands of one man... no, not just a man. The AK commander couldn't stop the memories from flooding in. Not long before John's arrival in Warsaw, the AK had been operating in the city in various ways—sabotage, espionage, making all sorts of preparations for when the day would come.

This included rescuing some of the Jewish prisoners who still remained in the city. In one of those rescues, Tadeusz met a boy. He couldn't have been more than 8 years old, although it was hard to tell due to the bones that stuck out from his body from lack of food.

His eyes were dim, and he refused to move any further, his will to live diminished by the horrors he had lived through and witnessed. His health was at its lowest point; the AK had arrived too late. Tadeusz held him in his arms as the boy trembled and life slipped away from his body.

His last words, the last question he asked, stayed in Tadeusz's mind for a long time.

"Sir, has God abandoned us?"

At that moment, his throat went dry. He tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. Because, what right did he have to lie to him in his last moments of life? Even if he knew it was the most merciful, the right thing to do... he couldn't do it.

Right now, Tadeusz wished he could go back to that moment, look that boy in the eyes, and say with conviction and firmness, not a lie, but a reality.

"God is fighting by our side, boy."

.

.

.

Steve Rogers took cover behind the remains of a vehicle as he hurriedly reloaded his weapon. Not far from him, Bucky removed the pin from a grenade and threw it towards the enemy lines. Both men played an excellent role in maintaining and advancing their position, along with a dozen more AK soldiers who were not far from them, providing support.

The German army seemed to be trying to enter into a guerrilla warfare approach throughout their remaining territory and were failing miserably at it.

There were more explosions. Steve frowned as he saw one of the AK soldiers suddenly fall due to a shot to the head.

"There's a sniper!" he shouted to warn in somewhat broken Polish and carefully tried to figure out where the shot had come from, something that almost cost him half his head.

Bucky dragged him back just in time, preventing the bullet from hitting him.

"Damn it, Steve, be careful!" Bucky scolded him, and with lightning speed, he aimed and fired, causing the sniper who had been shooting at them to plummet from his high position.

He, like Steve, had been searching for the sniper, but he was more cautious. When he spotted him, it was just in time to see him aiming at his friend, allowing him to save him, though it was uncomfortably close to missing.

"You almost made your girl a widow before you even got married, man."

Steve winced as he felt the sting on the side of his face. The bullet hadn't hit him, but it had grazed him, leaving a red line from the middle of his left cheek almost up to his ear. He could feel the blood starting to trickle down.

"Thanks," he said through gritted teeth as he pulled himself together. Bucky sighed and moved closer to examine his wound.

"Hey, remember when we were kids and talked about having cool scars and all that?" At the odd question, Steve looked at his best friend in confusion.

"I think you got yours first." After saying that, Bucky pulled out a bandage and began to wrap it.

Steve nearly rolled his eyes, and while he was being tended to, he focused on staying alert. The battle hadn't lessened in intensity just because he needed a moment, and they had to remain vigilant.

"You hear that?" Steve couldn't help but ask, frowning. At his words, Bucky froze, listening intently. Soon, he too heard the sound Steve was referring to, and his eyes widened in alarm. He quickly stood up and looked towards the distant sky.

"Bombers!" he shouted at the top of his lungs and pulled out a flare gun, firing it into the sky without hesitation. Then he and Steve started running away from their current location.

.

In the sky, nearing Warsaw, a dozen aircraft with a distinct appearance from conventional warplanes were approaching at great speed. Their color was a deep black, and a blue light glowed from their engines. The symbol of a red skull with tentacles extending from its jaw was emblazoned on their sides, a clear sign of whom they belonged to.

Behind them, a large cargo plane followed closely.

"Begin the deployment. Cargo release in—" The radio communication between the pilots was abruptly cut off as one of the planes suddenly and violently exploded.

A blurry figure moved swiftly through the shockwaves in the air, and three more planes exploded in quick succession.

Emerging from the dark smoke, John rushed forward with his shield in hand, ready to destroy them all before they could take any action. He was genuinely disappointed. He expected more from Hydra; these simple planes had already proven useless against him before, so why keep sending them?

He frowned, turning his attention to the cargo plane, different from the rest. What was on it? Explosives? Some kind of new weapon?

His thoughts were interrupted when hundreds of blue light projectiles began to be fired in his direction. That was new. He noticed how each plane had maneuvered to aim at him, deploying multiple turrets from their undersides.

He thought they would try to escape from him, but they seemed intent on keeping him away. Were they trying to protect the cargo? John had a bad feeling about this.

.

On the ground, the explosion of four planes naturally drew the attention of everyone fighting, causing the battle to pause for a moment.

Cassandra, now more recovered and rested, watched the fight in the sky as John began taking down several enemy planes in rapid succession. Then she noticed the cargo plane, which was getting closer to the part of the city held by the AK.

She paused in thought as an idea came to mind. If that plane was carrying explosives, wouldn't it be better if they exploded on the enemy's side? Of course, this wasn't so simple. There were still an unknown number of civilians throughout the city—some hiding due to a lack of weapons, others being prisoners held by the Nazi army in various buildings.

When it all started, a large portion of the city's civilians had either run to the AK's side or tried to flee the city. And while many succeeded, obviously not everyone was so lucky.

Remembering this, Cassandra frowned and decided to change her plans. She was going to destroy that thing in the air—whether it had explosives or not, it was best if it didn't reach her side of the city or any part of the city. Of course, she had never attempted to reach something so distant or heavy before; she didn't even know if she was capable of doing it, but she still wanted to try.

"Cover my back, little brother," she said, making Charles, who had been standing beside her, turn to her with doubt. He watched as she stood up and stretched both hands toward the sky. Confused, he followed the direction she was pointing and, when he realized what she intended to do, he couldn't help but sigh and ask himself, Is my sister crazy?

.

In the sky, the pilot of the cargo plane frowned as the aircraft was buffeted by turbulence caused by the explosions of the planes that had been escorting him.

He hesitated for a second but decided he couldn't wait any longer and prepared to release the cargo he had brought with him. But before he could, the sound of metal creaking made him shudder. Had he been hit?

No, if that man had hit him, the plane would have already fallen. He glanced back only to see the metal of the cabin suddenly crumpling inward. And If he could see the plane from the outside, he would have been horrified to notice how the metal of the aircraft was beginning to compress as if it were being crushed by two enormous hands at the same time.

Alarms blared loudly, and without further hesitation, he pressed the button to release his cargo, something he managed to do just a second before the entire plane collapsed in on itself, crumpling into a deformed ball of metal that exploded an instant later.

Back on the ground, Cassandra watched the explosion she caused with a broad smile. Sweat was pouring down her forehead, and her breathing was extremely labored, but her joy at having achieved her goal was short-lived. Because From the smoke of the explosion, six objects shot toward the ground in different directions.

"Oh, shit!" She opened her eyes in panic and stretched out her hands once more, trying to stop them, but due to her previous effort, she couldn't do it in time.

Their impact caused small tremors that brought down a few dilapidated buildings. Faced with the situation, Charles didn't hesitate. He grabbed Cassandra, pulling her to the ground with him, and covered his ears, bracing for the explosions.

But while the ground continued to tremble slightly, it wasn't the kind of shaking that indicated something had exploded. Confused, Charles crouched and craned his neck out from their hiding spot, ready to drop back down if necessary.

Cassandra followed him shortly after, and both looked in confusion at the columns of dust the six objects had caused upon landing.

"Did they miss?" Charles wondered with a frown, looking at the nearest column of dust, which was in the middle of a street about 300 or 400 meters from their location.

"Better step back a bit more," he decided. If the explosives were inactive, it was best not to approach and risk triggering them unnecessarily.

On the other hand, closer to the column of dust, Wolfgang, who had been with his men far too close to where the object fell, shakily stood up with blood dripping down his forehead.

What had that been? He pushed aside some debris that blocked his path and looked at the crater in the middle of the street in confusion. The wind gradually cleared the dust, revealing what seemed to be a large, sturdy black steel container. On its side was a symbol of a red skull with tentacles extending from its jaw and a word written beneath it.

"Höllenkrieger?" That was German. This had been sent by the Reich?? Was the help already here? A wide grin spread across his face at the thought, a grin that quickly turned into a perplexed expression when a strange sound reached his ears.

Was that a growl?

Wolfgang would never know the answer because, faster than he could perceive, something broke through the dark metal of the container—a long, pointed appendage that shot straight into his head, piercing his skull and killing him instantly.

Not far from there, the soldiers who had been following Wolfgang watched in horror as their leader's lifeless body was lifted into the air by the fleshy appendage.

"Fire!" one of them roared, raising his weapon and opening fire, with many others following suit in a panic.

Sparks flew as bullets struck the container, causing a growl louder than the first to reverberate through the air. Then the metal twisted, and a skeletal hand shot out, tearing through it. A humanoid figure in tattered clothing emerged as if breaking out of a cocoon, letting out a thunderous roar toward the sky.

"GRRAAAWWWRR!!!!!!!!!!!"

As if on cue, five similar roars joined the first.

.

In the sky, John, who had finished destroying all the enemy planes, looked down at the city with a frown. Due to the explosions and smoke, it had taken him a moment to realize what had happened with the cargo plane, which could have led to a great disaster if what it dropped had been explosives.

When there were no thunderous explosions, John sighed in relief, thinking they had been lucky. Of course, that relief vanished almost instantly when six bestial roars reached his ears.

"What the hell?" He looked at the six columns of dust that were clearing, and thanks to his superhuman vision, he could identify six grotesquely humanoid creatures emerging from the dark metal containers.

The creatures seemed unable to distinguish between ally or enemy and began attacking any soldier near them indiscriminately, adding to the already chaotic battle and making it even more chaotic.

Superhuman strength, superhuman durability, and superhuman speed were the first traits John noticed as he saw them begin to attack. In addition to that, there were mechanical parts in their bodies that glowed with blue light, along with appendages that clearly shouldn't be there.

The one closest to Charles and Cassandra, for example, had four long, pointed tentacles coming out of its back. Another had six arms, and one even had two heads. Monsters, abominations—any of those words could be used to describe such horrifying creatures.

'Is this the result of Hydra's experiments?' John would give them credit; they had fully achieved the terrifying and sinister look expected of them.

'They're too spread out.' The six monsters had fallen in different directions, some closer to others but still separated. John needed to quickly decide where to go first. He didn't know how strong these creatures were, but they would definitely be a problem for the regular AK soldiers.

One was near Cassandra, Charles, and several of the teams where the Howling Commandos were present. Two others were closer to the river where James had been deployed.

That left the last three, who had landed right where most of the fighting between the AK and the German army was taking place.

John hesitated, looking toward where the Xavier siblings, were. He knew James could take care of himself, and the man was undoubtedly already running toward the two creatures that had landed near him, fully intending to kill them.

So he could let James handle those two without worrying, leaving the remaining four. If he went to help the Xavier siblings, and ignored the other three monsters, he would be leaving not only the AK but also the civilians who had joined the fray to their fate for an unknown amount of time.

"What a fucking mess!" he gritted his teeth, but without wasting more time, he maneuvered his body in the air and kicked forcefully, creating a shockwave that sent him plummeting toward the three monsters that were beginning to engage the soldiers on the ground.

It wasn't an easy choice, but he chose to trust Charles and his sister. They were metahumans and had the help of the Commandos, along with the AK troops nearby. Even if they couldn't defeat the monster, he trusted they could hold out long enough until he returned to help them.

"They better not die," he thought with some anger as he landed heavily on the ground.

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.

.

The sight before them left Charles and Cassandra stunned for a moment.

After all, it's not every day you witness a true monster straight out of hell roar at the sky and begin to massacre a dozen armed men in an instant.

"We need to leave," Charles decided. Now that the monster was distracted with the German army, it was better for them to execute a tactical retreat and regroup with John and James.

"I don't think that's going to happen," Cassandra pointed out. The monster had already finished killing all the nearby German soldiers and seemed to be looking in their direction sinisterly.

Charles felt his heart skip a beat as he noticed this.

"Oh shit." Faster than Charles expected, the beast began to charge at them, cracking the ground beneath its feet with each step.

Without hesitation, Cassandra raised both hands, ready to push them away with her powers, but it wasn't necessary. Almost simultaneously, two projectiles flew through the air, crashing directly into the monster and causing it to stumble backward due to the explosion, covering its upper body in black smoke.

Charles turned to see that not far from them, Steve and Bucky, along with some other members of the Commandos and several AK soldiers, were standing.

"It's tougher than a tank," one of the Commandos, Gabe Jones, said as he quickly reloaded the bazooka he had fired.

"A dozen tanks, I'd say," Bucky responded, watching as the smoke cleared to reveal the monster's body, which, though slightly disoriented, didn't seem injured at all.

"No matter how hard it is, we must kill it," Steve, who had been the other person to fire one of the bazookas, quickly aimed the reloaded launcher, ready to attack again.

Meanwhile, the Xavier siblings had already hurried over to join them.

"Illusionist! It's good to see you're still in one piece," Angelo greeted him with his usual smile despite the situation. Charles wished he could have such a good attitude as the boy.

"Does anyone have any idea what that thing is?" Cassandra asked, watching the monster, which had already recovered and was starting to move toward them once again.

"I'd say it's Hydra's failed attempt to copy you," Dugan said.

"Failed? It looks pretty complete to me," Jim Morita commented sarcastically.

"Enough talking, it's coming!" Steve shouted and fired without hesitation, along with Gabe. Both missiles soared through the air, but this time, the monster wasn't caught by surprise. The whips on its back moved at great speed, intercepting one of the missiles and causing it to explode prematurely in mid-air.

However, the second missile made a strange turn in the air, evading the whip that was coming for it in a supernatural way and striking the monster's head directly.

Cassandra smiled, seeing that her maneuver had succeeded, but that smile faded when the monster roared and, angrier than before, started running toward them.

Before it could cross half the distance, though, its body suddenly seemed to spasm, and it fell to its knees, clutching its head in obvious pain.

"RAAAWWWRR!!!"

Charles furrowed his brow deeply, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the monster as he tried to exert his power over its mind.

A deformed and broken mind, with no trace of humanity left. Charles felt a headache beginning to form. Normally, entering other people's minds wasn't so difficult, but this time he could feel something else interfering, preventing him from unleashing his full power on the creature's mind.

He recognized the sensation. It was one he had felt when exploring James' memories, when the man had been controlled and forced to fight John against his will.

The monster also had a control device, one that was interfering with his powers.

On the other hand, noticing what was happening with the monster, the soldiers on their side didn't hesitate and began attacking the creature with all their weapons.

Cassandra, in particular, grabbed all the grenades available on their side and, guiding them with her powers, launched them toward the monster, causing a dozen or more explosions to engulf the street where it stood, shaking the entire area.

Charles staggered, cutting off his connection with the creature and nearly collapsing, but he was caught before he could fall.

"How many more times can you do that?" Steve, who had come to support him, asked. Charles hesitated for a moment before responding.

"Three or four more times, then I'll pass out." It wasn't an exact calculation, but it was what Charles felt could happen if he kept trying to enter the monster's mind.

"You don't need to overexert yourself, little brother. I'll kill that thing myself," Cassandra interrupted their conversation. She was a bit tired from her previous maneuver to destroy the plane at such a long distance, but she was already feeling a bit better and was ready to fight seriously.

And as if to prove her point, when one of the monster's tentacles shot toward her at high speed, Cassandra waved her hand forcefully, deflecting the attack and making it crash into one of the nearby buildings.

The concrete was sliced cleanly without any resistance, weakening the structure and causing it to start collapsing—something Cassandra used to her advantage as the debris began to levitate in the air under her influence.

Without hesitation, she made the debris rain down on the creature like high-speed projectiles, trapping it in a whirlwind that soon began to form a tornado around it.

Everyone present was stunned by the display of superhuman power.

But the spectacle didn't last long. As if to disrupt the flow of the tornado, the creature's tentacles began to move at great speed, cutting and destroying all the debris in their path, giving it the chance to escape from the prison of rubble where Cassandra had trapped it.

"How annoying," she growled under her breath. Its skin was too tough, and its physical strength was monstrous. Cassandra had already tried to hold its body directly and twist it with her telekinesis, but with little success beyond slowing its progress—one of the reasons it hadn't caught up to them yet, but that wouldn't last forever.

She needed to change her approach...

Her thoughts raced as she watched the monster getting closer and closer. A hail of bullets fired by the soldiers on their side tried to slow it down, and Charles used his powers again to trip it up, buying them another moment. Even so, it would soon be too close to them.

'If the exterior is too tough, then attack the interior.' Cassandra had never considered doing this before—hell, she didn't even know if she could—but time was running out, and she didn't have many other ideas.

Soon, Charles lost his influence over the creature's mind again, and the monster roared in clear rage, charging at them faster and more frenetically than before.

Cassandra took a deep breath and closed her eyes, concentrating. Her hand rose with her palm open, pointing toward the creature as she tried to reach inside it.

"Gotcha!" Cassandra's eyes snapped open, a broad smile on her face as she looked at the monster now less than five meters away from them.

Then she clenched her fist.

There was a sharp sound, like a balloon popping, and the creature that had been rushing toward them suddenly lost its balance and fell face-first to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. Its body rolled across the dirt, kicking up clouds of dust until it came to rest at Cassandra's feet.

The girl trembled slightly but stood firm, staring down at her fallen enemy.

"Y-you see? I told you I'd kill it," she said, glancing at her brother before her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, unconscious.

"Cassandra!"

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.

.

A few moments earlier, in another part of the city.

James gritted his teeth as he leaped into the air, crossing dozens of meters in an instant.

The smell in the air was utterly disgusting.

With his claws extended, he sped along, following the trail of that scent—a scent vaguely familiar yet entirely different.

The sound of gunfire, screams of horror, and bestial roars grew closer, and soon James saw the two responsible.

Slaughtering a group of German soldiers were what could only be described as a pair of abominations.

One of them was tall, with grotesquely deformed muscles bulging over each other across its body, and six arms where there should have only been two. From its shoulders, a pair of turret-like weapons unfolded, firing blue energy projectiles that obliterated everything in their path.

The second was a stark contrast to the first, gaunt and almost skeletal, hunched over like some kind of four-legged beast. It moved swiftly, hunting down the soldiers attacking it, tearing them apart in an instant with its long black claws. Its face—or where its face should have been—was covered by a dark metal mask.

James didn't see any other mechanical parts on the monster but didn't rule out the possibility that it had something hidden somewhere.

"What a disgusting pair," he spat, anger lacing his words. He was furious—furious because the scent of his brother emanated from them.

"HEY!" He shouted loudly, grabbing the attention of both creatures, who had just finished massacring the German soldiers.

James crouched slightly, leaning forward with his muscles tensed, adopting a clearly aggressive stance.

The two monsters growled at him, alarmed, their behavior more animalistic than intelligent.

With their attention now on him, James grinned, baring his teeth. Then, without hesitation, he took a powerful step forward, putting all his strength into it. The ground cracked beneath him, and his blurred figure crossed the distance between them so fast that, to a normal human eye, it would have seemed as if he had vanished from his previous position.

At the same moment, the monster with the metal mask lunged at him like a rabid dog, and in an instant, the two collided in midair. James' claws, harder than any conventional steel, tore through the bulletproof flesh, causing blood to splatter.

The monster growled in pain and used its long black claws to try to rip through James' skin, but it had little success, leaving only faint red marks that quickly disappeared.

"Get out of my way!" James snarled, and with a powerful motion, he spread his arms apart, his claws slicing through the creature's flesh, splitting it in two in an instant.

There was a pitiful scream as the monster was flung into the air in two pieces, but James no longer paid it any attention, continuing his advance toward the second monster, which roared in fury as it watched its "companion" get killed in an instant.

With heavy steps, the monster charged at James, its shoulder-mounted weapons lighting up with blue energy and firing hundreds of energy projectiles. James easily dodged them by maneuvering out of the way, then leaped into a charge that the monster took head-on.

The air exploded as their bodies collided, and the ground beneath them sank several centimeters due to the impact. James was ready to attack, but his enemy struck first. Six fists the size of his head were hurled at him from different directions.

One of them landed a solid blow to his face, but James had been hit harder before. This didn't stop him for a moment; without hesitation, he charged at his enemy, stabbing and tearing relentlessly like a rabid animal.

"GRRRAAAHH!"

"RAAAWWWRR!"

The two roars merged, shaking the entire area, but it was clear that one was filled with much more pain than the other. James continued to slash and mutilate until one of his claws reached the mechanical mechanism powering the monster's shoulder-mounted weapons.

The blue light engulfed them both, and then a massive, deafening explosion erupted.

BOOOM!

The energy of the Tesseract disintegrated everything within a radius of several meters, leaving nothing but silence enveloping the area.

Then the smoke cleared, and James stumbled out from the center of the explosion.

His breathing was ragged; he couldn't see, smell, or hear, but it only lasted a moment.

The empty sockets of his eyes refilled as his eyeballs grew back, restoring his vision. Over his white skull, the flesh bubbled as his muscles and tendons regenerated, with the skin covering them, a process that happened almost instantaneously.

Once all his wounds had healed, James released a long exhale.

That had hurt like a bitch

And now he was naked again—just great...

James glanced at himself for a moment until his nose twitched. He looked up and met the gaze of a man who appeared to be just a civilian, hiding behind a half-collapsed wall.

What might catch others' attention about the man was the large camera in his hands, but for James, the most important thing was the pants and coat he was wearing.

Without hesitation, James began walking toward him quickly. The man, who had been in shock, snapped out of his trance upon noticing this and began backing away until he bumped into a wall.

"Y-you—"

"The clothes, now," James said, and the man looked at him dumbfounded for a moment. James then growled making him jump and hurriedly began to undress down to just his boxers.

The man watched with sadness and resignation as James took his clothes and left him alone with just his camera in hand.

He couldn't help but sigh. Then he looked at his camera, and although he couldn't view the images he had taken until he developed them later in a photographic laboratory, he could still remember the moment he hoped he had captured in full.

The moment James crashed into the first monster and effortlessly tore it in half, ending its life in an instant.

It would surely be a prize-worthy shot.

But before that, he needed to find something to cover himself.

.

.

.

There was a sound, the sound of the wind breaking. The shield flew through the air at great speed, slicing through flesh like a sharp blade. A deformed head flew off, and a lifeless body fell to the ground.

John raised his hand to catch the shield and looked at the monster's corpse with a frown. These things had been a bit of a problem, but nowhere near as challenging. In fact, James had been much tougher to deal with than the three monsters he had faced today.

He stowed his shield behind his back and prepared to leave. Even though they weren't a threat to him, they were still quite dangerous to everyone else, and if any were still alive, he needed to deal with them as soon as possible.

Before he could leave, the caw of a raven interrupted him. He looked up and saw the familiar figure of Raven in her bird form. And soon she gracefully landed on his outstretched hand.

"What's up?" he asked, looking into her dark eyes.

"I thought you'd want to know that everything is fine. James easily took out the two monsters near the river, and the siblings handled the last one, though the girl ended up fainting."

John couldn't help but relax at this news. It seemed he had made the right choice after all. With that weight off his shoulders, John let out a long sigh.

"Do we have any casualties among the commandos?" That was another important question. Despite their skills, they were still human, and accidents could happen.

"No, some injuries but nothing too serious. Most can still keep fighting."

"That's good. Then go tell them to continue the operations. We've already lost enough time with this interruption. Also, make sure the siblings are well taken care of."

Raven nodded and began to flap her wings, leaving John alone once more.

Without the urgency to help, John relaxed a bit and walked over to where one of the containers had landed.

Looking at the metal box and the words written on it, John couldn't help but scoff.

"Höllenkrieger... they really like naming their things, don't they?"

He chuckled a bit, but his amusement quickly faded as he contemplated what this could mean.

Hydra had advanced much further than he had expected. How many more of these monsters did they have? Was there an entire army of them, or had these six been all they managed to get?

No, if they had an army, they would have sent it already. But that didn't mean there weren't more.

"How interesting... it seems this war has begun to change once again..." he thought contemplatively.

It seemed that the Vanguard project would have an earlier debut than planned.

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Note:

Höllenkrieger: Hell Warrior

As always, feel free to comment, give suggestions, and provide feedback. Criticism is important because it helps me improve and write better for you.

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
 
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Very exciting stuff! The Allied supes are flexing their powers, Cass and Raven are getting a better appreciation for the normies, and John's still struggling with his imposter syndrome. Eager to see where you go from here, thanks for sharing with us!

They were just ordinary men, after all. John already had her, James, and the Xavier brothers, so why would he need them?
John hesitated, looking toward where the Xavier brothers were.
Should these be 'siblings,' instead of 'brothers?' Not to make assumptions about Cassandra, or anything, but...

Confused, he followed the direction she was pointing and, when he realized what she intended to do, he couldn't help but sigh and ask himself, Is my sister crazy?
This should be lower case, shouldn't it? Or have different punctuation in front of it if it remains upper case. Additionally, should you include single quotes around the question Charles is asking? Probably fine either way, just a small quibble.

Once all his wounds had healed, James released a long exhale.

That had hurt like a bitch

And now he was naked again—just great...
Missing some punctuation here.
 
In years to come, German WW2 vets would tell stories of the Walking Wolf who fought the German's greatest mistake, the Magician who made you see what wasn't and not see what was, the Witch who could lift mighty weights with her mind, and the deadly booming noise that preceded The Shield that Flew.
 
29: Heroes
29: Heroes

The sound of cheers echoed across the battlefield, flags of white and red colors waving in the wind.

Standing atop the tallest building still standing, John raised his hand, shield in hand, and shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice reaching every corner of the city and even beyond.

"Warsaw is Free!"

The ovations didn't take long to follow. People celebrated, cried, kissed, or hugged—no matter where you looked, even the wounded ignored their battered bodies and stood to join the celebration.

In just two days and fifteen hours, Captain America and his team, along with the AK, liberated the city of Warsaw in a battle that would go down in history for various reasons.

The news, even for the time they were in, spread rapidly across the European continent, even reaching the ears of military leaders of other nations.

For some, it was further proof of Captain America's power. For others, it was an absolute disaster.

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"John, you really did it," Peggy smiled, and if John had been in the same room as her, he would've likely already leapt into her arms. It was a shame—though they were on the same continent, they were not in the same country.

There was a crackling sound, a characteristic noise that technology would eventually eliminate in long-distance communication devices.

"I wish you could see it. I haven't seen people this happy in a long time," John's voice came through, though somewhat distorted, still clearly conveying his joy.

Peggy was happy for him, even if she couldn't be there with him.

"When the war is over, maybe we could visit," she said, imagining that day vividly.

John fell silent for a moment, making her frown.

"What's wrong?" she asked, worried, sensing a bad premonition.

"The news of the victory will probably soon spread around the world, but something else will be revealed along with it, and I'm afraid it's something we can't hide for long. There were too many war reporters, and we couldn't catch them all."

John's voice was serious. Of course, he wouldn't say aloud that he hadn't even tried to stop them and had even made sure to "pose" unconsciously for several of them.

It seemed her bad premonition was real. Peggy couldn't help but press her lips into a thin line.

"Hydra has new weapons…" Peggy's breath hitched slightly.

"Their advances with the new serum have yielded results, but not pleasant ones. It's still incomplete, that much is clear. Calling them failures would be more accurate, but somehow, they've made them work. I'm afraid things will soon escalate—I don't know if only in Poland or across all fronts, but they will." She fell silent. John's words, though not too detailed, told her everything she needed to know.

"That's…" For a moment, she didn't know what to say.

"I know, it's not good, but it's better than if they had perfected the serum. Even so, we need to start preparing for what's coming. I managed to get in touch with one of the war reporters and convinced him to send copies of the photographs straight to the base. They'll be your first look at them, but soon I'll also be sending the better-preserved bodies for study. Tell Howard and our scientists to get ready."

Peggy nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her and quickly spoke up.

"Understood, I'll make sure everything's ready," her voice was firm, but John managed to catch a hint of uncertainty in it—something Peggy would never have let anyone else notice. But this was a private conversation between them, and she couldn't help letting some of her deeper feelings show for a brief moment.

"Don't worry. Though these new 'weapons' are tricky to handle, they're still failures. I can deal with them. Things will be fine, I promise you."

Peggy took a deep breath, closing her eyes and focusing on his voice as she repeated his last words in her mind. Then she opened her eyes, sharp and determined.

"I know. I trust in that."

Soon after, they said their goodbyes, and the communication cut off for now.

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In Warsaw, John stared at the brick-sized radio for a moment before retracting its extended antenna and switching it off. He really had to thank Howard—a communication device with such long range and such a "small" size was quite convenient in these times.

Creating it should not have been easy.

Shaking off those trivial thoughts, John shifted his gaze to the five corpses at his feet.

Well, it would be more accurate to say four and two halves.

Though six creatures had arrived, one had turned to dust after its battle with James, and another was split in half. The most intact body was the one Cassandra had killed, followed by those John had annihilated. Knowing they needed to be studied, John opted for the classic decapitation of his three enemies, which left the bodies relatively well-preserved, all things considered.

"You needed to see us, Captain?" A knock sounded at the door of the warehouse where John had brought the bodies, followed by Steve's voice.

"Yes, come in."

With his permission, the members of the Howling Commandos he had chosen entered. Their condition was rather pitiful, with a few wounds here and there, but for the most part, they were still able to stand without too much trouble.

"Whoa, so this is where these things were," one of them, whom John recognized as Dugan, said with a low whistle, looking at the bodies with a mix of curiosity and fear.

"They look even more beautiful up close, huh?" another commented sarcastically.

"Quiet," Steve reprimanded them.

"I'm sorry to have called you here at this moment. I know you're tired, and no one should deny you a good rest, but there's something I need you to do for me."

"Give the order, Captain. We won't hesitate to follow it," said the youngest of them, the Italian, Angelo. Though his English was somewhat poor, he was still able to understand and communicate well enough with the rest of the team.

"The kid's right," Jim Morita patted Angelo on the shoulder, causing him to stumble a little.

John smiled. Although the Howling Commandos wouldn't be his main team like they were for Steve, they were still reliable men willing to follow him.

"In that case, I'll get straight to the point," he said, gesturing toward the bodies on the floor.

"I need you to take these monsters' bodies to headquarters in Italy."

Originally, John had planned to bring the Commandos with him throughout his journey in Poland, but those plans had shifted slightly due to recent events.

He still intended for the Howling Commandos to fight by his side, of course. Their performance in Warsaw had been undeniably excellent, and as an elite team, the contributions they could bring to every future battle were unquestionable.

But for now, he needed to part with them. The delivery of such valuable specimens had to be made safely and reliably. If it were possible, John would have preferred to take the bodies himself, but he couldn't leave Poland just yet. Warsaw, though liberated, still needed some time. Its surroundings needed to be cleared, and the direct routes to the city as well.

John didn't want to risk Hydra launching another attack with more monsters. Even though he knew James and the Xavier Siblings could handle it, he didn't want to get overconfident and make a mistake by leaving them alone.

At the same time, sending James, Raven, or the Xavier Siblings with the samples would be a waste. It might sound cruel, but the Commandos were less crucial than the metahuman team. Plus, there was no one else John trusted enough to deliver the samples safely. If something happened, losing the specimens wouldn't be as devastating, since he had the impression they'd be encountering more of these monsters soon.

Therefore, it was best to stick with the original plan: continue the offensive in Poland as intended, and let the Commandos escort the samples to Italy so the scientists at S.W.O.R.D. could begin the necessary research as soon as possible.

As John had expected, the Commandos accepted without hesitation, understanding how important the task was. Of course, he still let them rest a bit more before they departed.

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Some time later.

Janet swallowed hard. She, along with a dozen more scientists, gathered around the mysterious "samples" that Howard Stark and S.W.O.R.D. director Peggy Carter had mentioned a few days ago. At the time, they hadn't been told much—only that the Captain and his team had successfully liberated Warsaw, which had, of course, brought much joy. But their serious demeanor had indicated that things weren't as good as they seemed.

There had been some rumors, and though Janet hadn't paid much attention to them, she had overheard a few things—things that had seemed hard to believe until now. Staring at the horrific creatures laid before them, Janet couldn't help but feel cold sweat run down her back as her gloved fists clenched tightly.

Is this what John faced?

"As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, this is Hydra's latest attempt to recreate super-soldiers. Their biology is unlike anything you've ever seen before. At the same time, their bodies are fused with extremely advanced robotics and mechanics," Howard Stark, the lead scientist of S.W.O.R.D., said as he pulled out several photographs taken directly from the battlefield, pinning them to a long board for everyone to examine.

Janet stared at the images, her mouth dry. The cruel photographs showed scenes where soldiers and civilians were massacred before John arrived and dealt with the monsters.

Her heart lurched when she saw the body of a small child cradled in the arms of what she assumed was the boy's mother.

"Resistant to low and high-caliber bullets, including explosives like grenades and missiles. Super speed, super strength, and undoubtedly many other enhancements not yet identified in their biology. Our job is to study them, either to find weaknesses or to discover what Hydra did to them. This is entirely new territory, so don't hesitate—run every imaginable test. We have enough samples and the facilities with the necessary equipment to do so. And if we don't have it, we'll create it," Howard said, his eyes flashing with a frenzied determination.

"Understood?!" he asked, and the assembled scientists nodded eagerly. It was time for them to contribute to their new organization.

"Then, let's get to work!"

For Janet, all the sudden flurry of activity around her was like white noise. Her mind was still focused on the dozens of photographs Howard had laid out.

She saw horrific scenes—death upon death, one-sided desperation for both the Polish and German soldiers. But perhaps the worst was seeing the civilians caught in the crossfire. For a moment, Janet felt a heavy weight in her chest, threatening to bring tears to her eyes. After all, she had never seen such raw horror before. Even the war footage projected in cinemas hadn't been as graphic as these images.

She almost wanted to stop looking until her eyes landed on a familiar symbol—a silver star.

As if the photographs had taken a 180-degree turn, all those scenes of death and despair seemed to fade away when John arrived on the battlefield. In one shot, he stopped the claws of one of the monsters with a single arm, saving a group of civilians who had nearly been caught by the creature.

For Janet, it was as if an angel of justice had intervened in the hell her eyes had been witnessing, bringing hope with him.

In every image, John appeared supremely heroic and brave, facing the nightmare creatures with a determined, resolute expression and a courage that seemed to radiate outwards, affecting everyone around him.

Where others had fallen, he stood victorious. Every punch, every kick, was beautifully captured by the photographer, as if guided to capture the most perfect angles. It made anyone who looked at the pictures swell with excitement.

Finally, John stood tall, his shield raised in victory over the monsters that had terrorized the battlefield.

Janet remained absorbed in that image for a moment until her eyes caught several more pictures.

In one of them, she could see the other publicly known super-soldier of S.W.O.R.D His fierce face and aggressive stance were well captured as he charged fearlessly at two of the creatures.

The man proved worthy of his title as a true super-soldier, easily slicing one of them in half in a beautifully taken shot, then charging at the second in an animalistic display of brutality that made Janet nearly gag.

She averted her gaze to the next set of photos, where two mysterious figures were visible, wearing metal masks that covered half of their faces—the rumored secret super-soldiers of S.W.O.R.D

Their existence had been unknown to anyone until now; even within S.W.O.R.D, many were unaware of them until what happened in Poland became known inside the organization and would soon undoubtedly cause a public stir worldwide.

Although the images didn't showcase physical combat like those of John and James, they displayed something equally spectacular: the deployment of supernatural power by the woman who stood confidently in front of all her allies, doing everything she could to stop the monster's advance. The photos seemed almost like a sequence, with the monster getting closer and closer until it suddenly fell face-first to the ground, landing dead in front of the woman, who had her arm outstretched toward it with her fist clenched.

It was a beautiful pose, and for a moment, Janet imagined herself standing in that place with yellow light shining in her fist.

And without her being able to stop it, this thought began to take deeper and deeper root in her mind.

Why? she asked herself. Why was she here, safe behind a heavily guarded base, while out there people were risking their lives without hesitation for others?

If this had been before, she could have argued with herself, said she was just a scientist, not a soldier. Maybe that she was just a woman, and the battlefield wasn't her place.

But Janet wasn't the same as before.

She raised her hand, recalling that yellow light, that almost electric power she could now feel growing within her body without any limit.

Why wasn't she out there? she wondered, looking at the last picture. an image that really contributed almost nothing to the investigation, but it had been taken as an extra by the photographer. an image that showed John, James, Raven, Cassandra, and Charles standing together, surrounded by soldiers and civilians who cheered at them, their faces full of happiness and gratitude.

Heroes.

It was the only word that came to mind, and the only one she felt was fitting to describe them.

Without realizing it, a new desire and longing was born within her at that moment, one that would grow stronger over time and lead her down a path she never thought possible.

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In the Atlantic Ocean.

A submarine navigated through its depths, its black metal like the night camouflaged perfectly with the waters as it advanced toward the U.S. coast.

There was still a long way to go, but soon its arrival would be imminent.

The senior officer in command, Emil Fischer, smiled sinisterly, already imagining the moment, imagining what Captain America's face would look like when his "cargo" arrived on the soil of his beloved country.

"Fools," he couldn't help but mutter, recalling the orders he had been given. Wait in Poland? Delay Captain America in his crusade? Why should he do that? Why wait now that such an incredible weapon had fallen into his hands?

Victory had always belonged to those who took the initiative. Captain America might be powerful, but he was still just a man. Take away a man's reason to fight, and he would be nothing more than an empty shell.

That's why he believed they should let the Captain wreak all the havoc he wanted in Poland and focus their attacks on the United States. While the man was fighting for other countries, his home would be destroyed by his absence. What more would they need to break him?

But those fools didn't listen to him; they decided to follow orders without hesitation or question. They couldn't see it, couldn't imagine the same as he did.

It was a shame, but he had to take the initiative. Maybe the United States wouldn't be completely destroyed, but he would show them that he was right. When Captain America heard what happened in his country, without a doubt, he would abandon Europe and return to America like a dog with its tail between its legs.

When that happened, there would be no need to "delay" anything. The U.S. government would surely not let the man leave its borders again for fear of another attack.

Yes, it was perfect, but it seemed no one but him could see that. Well, it didn't matter. In the end, the glory would be his and his alone.

There was a commotion. Snapped out of his delusions, Emil Fischer frowned and turned to look at the soldiers under his command.

"What was that?" There shouldn't be any turbulence in these waters.

"Sir, it seems the radar detected something, but it's…" the soldier looking at the data fell silent, as if he couldn't comprehend what his eyes were seeing.

Emil Fischer didn't like this and approached the man, pushing him aside and looking at the data himself.

"This is—?" Before he could continue speaking, the entire submarine lurched, nearly causing the senior officer to fall to the floor. Alarms began blaring everywhere, and at the same time, red light flooded the cabin.

"Hull breach!" someone shouted, but Emil Fischer couldn't pay attention because another violent jolt made the submarine suddenly change position, causing everyone present to be tossed from side to side roughly.

Emil's head slammed against one of the metal walls, making his vision swim. He tried to steady himself, but his knees gave out. For a moment, he felt vomit rising in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow and, with great effort, managed to crawl toward one of the control consoles in a vain attempt to stand.

An attempt that was thwarted when another tremor hit the submarine, and water began gushing in.

Emil Fischer watched in horror as a golden trident pierced the thick metal of the submarine, creating a massive opening through which a hand clad in black armor forced its way in.

Fingers of a grayish, almost bluish color gripped the torn edge, and with inhuman ease, they pulled apart the thick armored steel as if ripping paper. Then, a figure entered, along with the ocean water.

Eyes as black as the night were the last thing Emil Fischer saw before his head was impaled by the trident.

There were screams, fighting, but no matter who it was, wherever the figure passed, all Hydra soldiers were mercilessly eliminated in an instant.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the submarine until their owner reached its deepest part.

There, carefully placed, was a large black container, with German words written in red across its surface.

"I found you," a word spoken in an ancient language echoed through the place.

The sea had been agitated. In its waters, something that shouldn't exist was sailing—a deformity of nature that caused the oceanic spirits to cry out in disgust, a monster that had to be eliminated without question.

And there was no one better suited for such a task than the one proclaimed as their champion, the son of the seas, ruler of all beneath the water.

The king of Atlantis.

Namor.

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Note:

New chapter! I hope you enjoy it!

As for Namor, this story is originally inspired and based on the MCU, and normally I would use the movie version of Namor. But honestly, I don't think he fits very well, given how little we've seen of him and his much weaker power compared to the original Namor. That's why I prefer to use his "classic" version, so to speak.

Besides, he's got more "style."

I'm still unsure if he'll be a recurring character or not—I need to plan it well. But it seemed right to give him some participation for various reasons.

As always, feel free to comment, give suggestions, and provide feedback. Criticism is important because it helps me improve and write better for you.

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

(image below)

 
I know that this is fiction, so I'm not sure how realistic you're trying to keep it. But if a hole that size was torn into a submarine when it was at normal depth in the water, the water rushing in would kill everyone before aquaman could get in there and stab the guy. The pressure difference would be great enough that the sub would implode, or the water pressure would be great enough to actually cause an explosion due to cutting into flammable stuff in the sub with extreme heat at the same time, or the water rushing in would just crush everyone.
Unless Aquaman uses his control over water to explicitly NOT allow that to happen?
 
30: Two Steps New
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.

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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.

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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.'

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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
 
31: Magnetism New
31: Magnetism

"Get out of my way!" Erik roared, and the metal trembled.

With a wave of his hand, a rain of bullets heading in his direction was easily deflected; the projectiles made a 180-degree turn in the air, returning directly to where they came from.

"Argh!" There were choked screams followed by several bodies collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

Without sparing them a second glance, the former prisoner hurriedly stepped over them, focusing on that sixth sense that allowed him to feel all the metal within several meters around him to cover his back as he advanced toward his objective, toward his mother.

'Just a little more, I'm almost there.' Erik felt confidence growing inside him as he advanced further. After all, no matter how many German soldiers stood in his way, it was exceedingly easy for him to dispose of them. Even without the invasion the camp was suffering, Erik felt he could have destroyed this entire place by himself.

Such growing arrogance came to a halt when a blue light projectile was fired in his direction. Erik had never seen anything like it before, and it was only by pure instinct that he managed to drag several nearby metal-laden debris to form an improvised wall in front of him.

A wall that was pierced in an instant.

'What?!' He barely managed to throw himself out of the way to avoid being pulverized.

Clumsily rolling on the ground, Erik crawled until he could get a clear view of his new enemy, a sight that made his confidence return once more.

The Hydra soldier aiming in his direction suddenly met his death when the metal in his weapon twisted, causing the energy shot about to be released to explode point-blank against him.

This time, Erik did give a second glance to the remains of the man. Where had he come from? And what was that strange blue light? His curiosity was piqued, but only for a moment, as a tremor caused by another nearby explosion quickly brought him back to his senses, making him keep running.

He could find the answers to his questions later; right now, he needed to focus.

It didn't take him long to see the thick, tall wall separating the men's prison from the women's, a wall that was now almost completely collapsed due to one of the explosions that had been happening.

Passing through the rubble, Erik sharpened his gaze, giving the area a quick scan. The chaos was very similar to what had ravaged his side of the camp, except here, there seemed to be a much greater presence of his "benefactors." Erik didn't know who they were or why they had begun attacking the camp. The only thing he knew was that as long as they bore the colors of the Polish flag somewhere on their bodies, it meant they were on "his side"—in other words, they were against the Germans.

Therefore, the boy helped them as much as he could while making his way through. After all, the fewer Germans left alive, the easier it would be for him to escape with his mother when the time came.

A time that was fast approaching, he could feel it. He just had to find her, just had to take her hand, and everything would be alright. He would protect her, as he had promised his father. He would save her.

With such thoughts filling his mind, Erik ran across the battlefield, carefully observing every woman who crossed his path, searching for a familiar face, a familiar voice. But with every minute that passed without finding her, his anxiety began to grow more and more.

"MOM!" He finally reached the point where he started yelling at the top of his lungs. Perhaps if she heard his voice, she would come to him—that was his thought.

"MOM!!" His shout, even amidst the jumble of other sounds filling the area, echoed through the place along with the screech of metal.

Of course, the nearby German soldiers noticed this and, without hesitation, aimed at him—a foolish decision that blew up in their faces along with their weapons.

'Annoyances.' Erik clenched his teeth in anger as he dispatched all the enemies that stood in his way.

There was a crash followed by a bestial roar that reverberated everywhere, causing the ground to tremble. At another time, Erik would have paid more attention to such turmoil, but right now, he didn't care—even if the devil himself decided to emerge from the jaws of hell to destroy the world.

No, right now, all that mattered to him was finding his mother.

"Erik!" And as if God had decided to answer his prayers, her voice reached his ears. With bloodshot eyes, Erik spun around sharply in the direction where he had heard her scream.

Despite all the dust and smoke filling the air, Erik was still able to see her, to recognize her. She looked thinner, more fragile, but without a doubt, it was her—it was his mother.

"Mom!" he cried out excitedly, starting to run toward her, nearly stumbling in his haste.

"Erik!" His mother screamed his name once more upon recognizing him, and though shaky, she too began running toward him with excitement. Both were just a few meters away from embracing, from being together again.

But Erik had forgotten one thing, something that should have never left his mind, something he learned when his father died in his arms while their home burned due to the war.

God did not exist in this world.

One moment, his mother was running toward him, smiling, tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

The next, her figure vanished abruptly as something faster than bullets swept past her like a blur.

"Ma?" Erik almost stumbled. Not understanding what had just happened, his feet slowed as he saw the blood-red stain left in the spot where his mother had stood just a second before.

"Grrrrr." The low, guttural growl made Erik look to the side. Under any other circumstances, he would have taken a step back upon seeing what was before him. There, standing on all fours on the ground, was what could only be described as a humanoid deformity—a monster slowly chewing chunks of flesh between its long, yellowed teeth, with unfocused eyes filled with red veins and a blue light pulsing through its irises.

A terrifying sight that could inspire deep fear with just a glance—or at least, it would have if Erik wasn't so numb at this moment, so detached from his own reality that any sense of danger or fear he might have felt had completely shut off.

His emotionless gaze fixated on the beast until he noticed something, until he saw the broken, battered body it was holding in one of its hands.

The body of his mother.

Then everything turned red.

"AHHHHGGRR!!"

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A few moments earlier.

"Damn it!" James growled, and with a swift motion, he pulled his claws out of the deformed skull of one of his enemies—enemies that were now nothing more than corpses at his feet. All around him, the place had been torn apart, left in ruins due to the fight he had been waging against three of the monstrosities Hydra had sent to Auschwitz.

John and his team had learned of their presence in the Auschwitz camp thanks to Charles, and the task of dealing with them had been assigned to the second-strongest member of the team. Meanwhile, the others focused on Shaw. It should have been a simple task for James, if not for the fact that one of the monsters had managed to slip away while he concentrated on the other two, who had turned out to be stronger than anticipated.

"Shit!" Gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow, he began running at full speed, following the scent trail of the beast, the ground beneath his feet sinking with every step he took.

He had been careless, too confident, and now who knew how many people had died because of his mistake.

"AHHHHGGRR!!"

"What!?" James stumbled, not from the gut-wrenching scream but from the screeching sound of metal that accompanied it.

He saw, all at once, hundreds of metal-laden debris begin flying through the air in a specific direction—the very direction he had been running toward.

"Great, now what?" Of course things had to get even more complicated, right? Why not? With a grunt, he took a stronger step than the previous ones, launching himself into the air, crossing the distance between him and his target in record time, giving him a much clearer view of what was happening.

"Huh?" What greeted him, of course, was not what he expected. Sure, there was blood and some bodies, but the most surprising sight was seeing his target being struck by hundreds, or perhaps thousands, of metal debris from all directions at high speed.

Had Charles's sister arrived? No. James dismissed that thought as he looked at the mess around him. Although it hadn't been long since Cassandra joined the battlefield, she had learned and adapted quickly, managing to master her powers well enough that she wouldn't make unnecessary moves like the one James was witnessing now.

After all, it didn't matter how much debris you hurled at one of Hydra's monsters; their bulletproof skin would treat them as mere nuisances that would only serve to delay, not defeat.

Cassandra knew this, and therefore she wouldn't waste her energy like this unless she had no other option, and James doubted that such a weak monster would corner her to that point.

So, he focused his gaze along with his superior senses and soon found the culprit, causing him to raise an eyebrow upon seeing him.

One of the prisoners? And a young one at that, one who seemed blinded by rage. James, who was still in the air thanks to his previous great jump, looked attentively at the concentration camp. If the boy kept using his powers so recklessly, he would end up demolishing the entire place before he could even scratch the monster.

He needed to calm him down, so without thinking any further, he used one of the debris flying through the air to propel himself towards the ground at great speed.

"Kid, you have to—" He reached Erik's side, but before he could finish speaking, a rain of metal interrupted him, sending his body flying dozens of meters into the distance.

"Get lost!"

Erik didn't even register the person he had just sent flying; all his attention was on the enemy in front of him, the monster that killed his mother, that took the only thing he had left in life.

With pure boiling rage, he clenched his teeth and stretched both hands in its direction. The metal under his command followed his movements and began attacking the beast, but no matter how many pieces of debris struck it, the monster seemed to ignore them completely, with not a single visible wound on its body.

"DIE!"

"Grrrawww!"

Tired of being relentlessly struck, the monster roared, and with a movement of its hand, the metal shattered and tore apart easily. Then, like a cannonball, it propelled itself forward, breaking the sound barrier in an instant, plowing through everything in its path without encountering any resistance.

Erik couldn't even react to such a high-speed movement.

Just when the monster was less than a centimeter away from reaching him, a blurry figure arrived at his side, pulling him out of the way just in time.

"Damned impulsive brats!" Erik didn't understand the words since they spoke different languages, but he recognized the voice, having just heard it a few seconds ago before sending its owner flying.

How was he still alive?

James was a bit annoyed; sure, the hit hadn't really hurt him, nor had he been injured by it, but no one liked getting struck when they were just trying to help.

Leaving the boy behind him, James looked at the monster, ready to rush in and quickly kill it, but before he could take a step forward, dozens of metal rods surrounded his body, coiling around him like snakes in an attempt to immobilize him.

"He's mine!" Although the metahuman couldn't understand the boy's words, he could grasp the hatred and resentment conveyed by his eyes and tone of voice—emotions he had seen many times over his immortal life, causing him to hesitate for a moment.

Meanwhile, Erik looked at his enemy, who was also watching him, or more precisely, James standing beside him. The immortal metahuman triggered the beastly instincts in the monster, causing it to hesitate in attacking recklessly.

Noticing its hesitation, Erik didn't rush either. Although he still felt the boiling rage inside him, nearly dying a few seconds ago brought clarity back to his mind. After all, how pathetic would it be if he died without at least avenging his mother? He had already failed to protect her as he had promised his father; he had no intention of failing to kill her murderer.

That's why he took a deep breath and regained control of his powers. He had already realized that charging in with blind fury was pointless. His enemy was too strong to be beaten by something like that; he needed something different.

'This is-?' He hadn't noticed before due to the shock, but now that he focused, he could feel it—inside the monster's body, there was metal, small amounts but metal nonetheless.

Quickly, he tried to use it, to pull it out of its body, but the monster wasn't just tough on the outside; its interior was just as resistant, and Erik's attempt only served to irritate it rather than hurt it.

'That's why it didn't fly out of him during my earlier rage.' Even if the metal was inside it, it was still restricted by the monster's own body. So, how could he hurt it?

Erik couldn't find an answer to that question, as the monster, irritated by his attempt to pull the metal inside it, stopped hesitating and lunged forward.

Only this time, Erik wasn't caught by surprise. Even if his eyes and other senses were unable to follow the inhuman speed of the monster, his sixth sense, which allowed him to even stop bullets mid-flight, was perfectly capable of sensing the movement of the metal inside the creature. This allowed Erik to react to its movement, intercepting its charge and sending dozens of pieces of debris crashing into it, forcing it to be violently thrown back.

"Let's see if you can withstand this!" With superhuman effort, Erik controlled all the metal he could, gathering it into several pieces that he sent flying with everything he had, feeding his power with his rage and pushing past his limits once again.

From behind, James watched the battle closely, ready to intervene if necessary. The boy was strong, but his weakness was clear to the immortal: he could only control metal. If he were like Cassandra, capable of exerting her power over all kinds of objects, the boy would have already won. Without a doubt, the amount of force he could exert with his ability was astonishing, but being limited to only metal significantly restricted his forms of attack.

The fight reached a stalemate for a few moments, with the monster unable to reach Erik and Erik unable to hurt it. It was a deadlock that would eventually break, as one of the two would give in due to lack of endurance, and James knew who that person would be.

'Sorry, kid, but I'll have to step in.' James didn't like interfering in others' affairs when they clearly didn't want him to, but he knew Erik wouldn't be able to kill the creature on his own, not as things stood. If he let the fight continue, the risk of the monster getting lucky and either killing or severely injuring Erik would be too great.

'Even if you end up hating me, it doesn't matter.' Flexing his muscles, he prepared to break the metal rods that had him "captured," but before he could, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

James sensed a familiar presence, and soon a face he recognized appeared in his vision.

"Leave it to me." John, who had come from who knows where, gave James a confident smile before stepping forward and speaking in perfect German.

"Hey, boy! How about using this?" Hearing words he could understand and sensing something flying towards him, Erik turned his head only to find a round shield, adorned with a white star in the center, flying toward him.

'What's this?' Confused, he caught the shield with his powers, making it levitate around him with curiosity. It was metal, no doubt about that, but at the same time, it felt different from any other metal he had encountered before, something he could tell since his powers allowed him to easily distinguish between different types of metallic materials he came across.

After a moment of admiring the shield, Erik turned toward the person who had thrown it to him. He didn't know who John was, where he had come from, or why he had decided to give him the shield. Still, he nodded toward him and returned his gaze to the monster, which was still being bombarded by the metal debris under his control. Despite his efforts, the creature still hadn't suffered a single scratch on its body.

Could he really do something with this shield? His doubt was understandable, but he also knew that he didn't really have any other options. He wasn't foolish and had realized that he wouldn't win if things continued as they were. His stamina was starting to run out, and soon he wouldn't be able to keep applying the same pressure that prevented the monster from approaching him.

'It's this or nothing.' Clenching his teeth, he looked at the shield and let his powers flow through it with all the strength he had left, a thin stream of blood trickling from his nose.

Then, his bloodshot eyes turned toward the monster, and without waiting any longer, he sent the shield flying toward it. The air split apart, and much faster than the speed of sound, the shield—made from the most powerful metal on the planet—flew unhindered toward its target, leaving a trail of blue and red behind.

"Shhhhing!"

The monster saw it coming but was unable to dodge it, as the metal around it coiled around its body like chains, preventing it from moving.

In an instant, the edge of the shield reached the creature, and like a sharp blade, it struck its neck. Without encountering any resistance, it cut through its skin in a clean motion, sending its head flying through the air.

As the monster's body stopped struggling and went limp, Erik smiled. He felt his consciousness begin to fade, and before passing out completely, he sent the shield back, throwing it toward John with a grateful look.

He then collapsed to his knees, completely unconscious, but before he could fall completely, John stepped forward and caught him.

"It's not exactly what I had planned, but I guess it'll work," John thought as he surveyed the destruction around him. His original idea had been to rescue Erik along with his mother, but it seemed that even the best-laid plans encountered unexpected difficulties.

Or rather, no plan, no matter how perfect, could go off without a hitch?

'I'll have to refine that quote before adding it to my diary.'

Shrugging, he looked at James, who had already escaped from his "imprisonment" and had approached.

"Tell me everything that happened."

He needed to know what had gone wrong.

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Note:

Long wait, right? thank you for your patience and understanding.

I debated for a while over the fate of Erik's mother before making a decision, which wasn't easy, but I believe it's the right one. I know it's not what many expected, but I hope you can understand.

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 time that was fast approaching, he could feel it. He just had to find her, just had to take her hand, and everything would be alright. He would protect her, as he had promised his father. He would save her.
Man, he is hoisting her death flags hand over hand, isn't he?

James was a bit annoyed; sure, the hit hadn't really hurt him, nor had he been injured by it, but no one liked getting struck when they were just trying to help.
This seems redundant. Do you mean 'nor had he been injured where he landed...' or something like that?

The boy was strong, but his weakness was clear to the immortal: he could only control metal.
'Say that to me when you've got metal bones.'

This is pure pre-adamantium arrogance talking. I know, I know he's far stronger now, and he clarifies it later on in the paragraph, but really anyone calling Magneto weak is enough to get a laugh out of me.

Logan's been palling around with John and Cassandra for too long if he thinks Erik is weak, but it's early days yet in the proliferation of metas in the public eye, so of course he would have a warped perspective of strength.
 
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Fairly good fight. Decent conclusion. However I question why the creatures would hunt human beings and try to eat them, unless they were made from animals driven to madness?

Anyway, is it possible for our two super soldiers to give their blood to try and save a life? Marvel Comics seems to be a bit happy on the subject. But most seem to get some abilities copied from the donor. Wouldn't our protagonist know that and give it a shot?
 
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