//------------------------------// // Return and Final Plan // Story: A New Brand of Freedom // by Spettro138 //------------------------------// On the way back to England the U.S government tasked Cap with assisting with a few small missions and publicity events to increase the morale of the troops. One such event was a meet and greet in a bombed out town in Southeastern France. U.S and French resistance were desperately trying to gain a footing against the Nazi's iron grip of the country. A line of tanks and anti aircraft cannons were dotted around the town and several battalions kept up a constant pressure on Hitler's Luftwaffe who pelted the town every few hours. Firebrand like always, kept low and out of sight, observing and listening to the language and behavior of the people. He felt empathetic for all of them, seeing how banged up they were and hearing the sadness and cries of joy, in their voices. While the colt couldn't fully comprehend the pain, suffering, or loss these soldiers were going through, he could plainly see the impact his father was having on these troops. All the hurt they had all seemed to melt away for the moment, as Captain America took time to shake each of their hands. Young men and women, roughly two decades older than he was, covered in dirt, grime, blood, sweat, and a variety of other things. Some missing limbs or badly wounded running, walking, and hobbling up to him just to have a chance to meet the Star Spangled Man With A Plan. Even then, his father showed his undying compassion and kindness, coming over to them most of the time. Despite being pressed for time, Steve wanted to meet as many people as he could. Through these troops, Firebrand heard countless stories of glory, brothers and sisters lost on the battlefield, tragedy, betrayal, love, and sacrifice. He finally realized what Steve meant when he said that some things he wouldn't be able to understand until he was older. Seeing that red, white, and blue flag plastered over his chest meant so much to them. Even though he was not born in America or experienced the country firsthand, Firebrand could see a special spark in their eyes that he often felt himself being around his father. He was more than just a commanding officer to them, more than just a human. The man they knew as Captain America was a symbol. A role model that represented the best ideals of humanity and carried its shared goals for a brighter future. Some even compared him to holy men of the past who uplifted the soul in the best possible ways. The way everyone admired him and talked about him inspired even the colt. It gave him something new and hopeful to think about. The man however, that piqued Firebrand's interest the most was an old general with four golden stars on his worn green helmet. He spoke with such power and command that his father would often use. In his right hand, he carried a swagger stick that smelled of blood and dirt. His father and this general had a lengthy conversation about the war and tactics that Firebrand somehow felt obligated to listen to and memorize. This had to be the "Georgie" that the Prime Minister was referring to. When they went to talk further in a private area, Steve felt safe enough to introduce the colt to the General. After a humorous few minutes of explanation, Firebrand was received quite pleasantly by the elder, the pony standing at attention rigidly and saluting properly like he always saw everyone else. This display made the General smile and chuckle, but he returned the salute respectfully. "At ease soldier," he said in a deep, gravelly voice. Firebrand relaxed, but the General kneeled down and kissed Firebrand on the forehead. The gesture confused the foal, but it was rather comforting. "When Chester told me we had a child recruit in the SSR, I thought he was nuts," the General started. "But if half the stories of your exploits and injuries are true, then you are certainly worthy of being a soldier in my army Firebrand." "Yes sir! Thank You sir! I just hope I helped. I only want to help my papa." "You have, absolutely. Every fight you and your papa have fought you have won and gained us an edge in this war. Just remember Firebrand. America loves a winner and will never tolerate losers. Keep close to this magnificent bastard of a father of yours. He'll always be a winner. I wouldn't give a hoot for a man who lost and laughed." "Sir yes sir!" Firebrand cried stiffly. "In time, you just might be a full fledged American soldier Firebrand. Screw anything those backwards facing bureaucrats in Washington think otherwise." The General started towards the door to leave but turned back to the duo with a smile. "Tear out their living guts and murder those lousy bastards Captain," the General growled with pleasure. "I leave Schmitt to you while I rip Hitler a new one." "Yes sir!" the two said. When he was rudely captured by the uncouth Americans, Dr. Arnim Zola was shackled in irons, covered with a burlap bag over his head and shoved into three separate transport vehicles. The contents of the train to his horror, he knew would be confiscated by the Allied Powers. While he could not see, he could tell that he was always being moved around from place to place. For a few days, he had even been on a boat. Or at least he thought so from the rocking, the smells, and the sound of Americans swearing. Once or twice, he could feel things being thrown at him. Filthy foreigners, he always thought. The itchy burlap bag over his head made the experience all the worse. His skin often flared up in unbearable rashes that felt like fresh sunburns. His finely woven clothes and glasses had been confiscated from him and replaced with a poor oversized dirty cotton shirt that hung a foot below his waistline and a hand-me-down pair of brown trousers. As he arrived at his final destination in London, he was pulled out of a moving van and into an undisclosed facility. He could hear so many voices and people running around him, though for what purpose he could not readily surmise. Long hallways over clean laminated floors he went, being roughly escorted by two strong men that held a firm grasp of each arm to force him along. Soon enough, he was thrown into a dark room and finally had the bag removed from his balding head. It was an interrogation room somewhere in the bowels of an English building. One of the men who had been forcing him along had an MP on his helmet. Military police if Zola had remembered correctly. He gave Zola his glasses back and shut the metal door behind him. Locking him in from the other side with what sounded like six heavy duty locks. The room he had found himself in was completely white and sterile like a hospital room, yet somehow dark and dank. Barely illuminated by the one lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. A black one way window loomed over him, obscuring anything or anyone that may be watching him on the other side. A grey gurney sat on the other side of the room, past the simple metal table and two chairs that accompanied it. Zola could feel himself sweating when he spotted something on the floor that looked like spattered blood. The old faucet by the door dripped every few seconds, only adding to the intimidating nature of this room. It reminded him too much of Baron Zemo's laboratory. Suddenly, the door swung wide open and a well dressed American officer stepped into the room, carrying a tray filled with food. A steak, some broccoli and a few small potatoes on a simple white plate. Accompanied by a short glass of milk and two salt and pepper shakers. Zemo was terrified by how calm and controlled the man seemed to be. Absolutely no emotion whatsoever seeped through his wrinkled brow or his earthen brown eyes. He reminded Zola of the legendary Sphinx of Egyptian myth. This was certainly a man of high rank, as his uniform led the scientist to believe. His gravelly voice need only uttered two words to capture his attention and obedience. "Sit down". Zola obeyed, willing to play the man's game, to see what he was up to. He was confused however when the American pushed the tray of food towards him. Not understanding what was going on. The man stood up and turned the tray around. "What is this?" Zola asked. "Steak." He was up to something, Zola was sure of it. "What...is in it?" "Cow." His simple answers only made him more nervous, but he used all of his mental prowess to not let it show outwardly. "Doctor...do you realize how hard it is to get ahold of a prime cut out here?" he asked plainly. "I...don't eat meat," Zola replied slowly in a display of defiance. "Why not?" the man asked innocently. "It disagrees with my stomach." "How about stomach pumps, spinal needles, anesthetic, drills, and cyanide?" the man asked in a dangerously low voice. "Do they give you the rumbly tummy too? Getting your hair ripped out, boring holes into your head and sealing them up with a laser? That would certainly do a number on mine." Zola was sweating but simply smiled back, immediately knowing who and what he was referring to. 'He must be one of the Captain's little friends' Zola thought. The man turned the plate back around to himself and started to enjoy the quality meal in front of Zola. "Every Hydra agent we have tried to take alive has crunched on a little pill before we could stop him. But not you." Zola couldn't speak. Enraptured by the stoic, controlled nature of this man and how bold he was. "So here's my brilliant theory," he continued. "You want to live." "You're trying to intimidate me Colonel," Zola replied quietly. "I bought you dinner," he replied with a shrug. Without skipping a beat or moving his head, the Colonel grabbed a document he had brought in with him and slid it over to the Doctor to read. Zola touched it and adjusted his glasses, reading aloud. "Given the valuable information he has provided, and in exchange his full cooperation, Dr. Zola is being remanded to Switzerland, pending a future trial?" "I sent that message to Washington this morning. Of course, it was encoded. You boys haven't broken those codes have you? That would be awkward." The colonel salted a piece of potato and ate it while Zola just stared at him with an incredulous look on his face. "Schmitt will know this is a lie," Zola replied. "He's gonna kill you anyway Doc. You're a liability. You know know more about Schmitt than anyone. You brought severe mental and physical harm to our youngest recruit. The world's first documented sentient species outside of humanity. And the last guy you cost us was Captain Rogers' closest friend, so I wouldn't count on the best protection. Both the Axis and the Allies have it out for you. Its either you or Schmitt. That's just the hand you've been dealt." Zola could feel the walls of the interrogation closing in on him. He was getting light headed. "Schmitt believes he walks in the footsteps of the gods." Zola stated. "From my last encounter with dear little Firebrand, it seems they are indeed real." The Colonel chuckled mockingly with a mouth full of food. "Only the world and the whole of creation itself will satisfy him. The foal, he hopes will lead him to it." "You do realize that's nuts don't you?" "The sanity of the plan is of no consequence," Zola said shaking his head. "And why is that?" "Because he can do it!" "What's his target?" "His target...is everywhere." Colonel Phillips stopped chewing and just stared at him, fully understanding the gravity of their state of affairs. The feeling of something terrible was on the horizon, and he needed his troops to be ready for it. He couldn't let go just yet though, he had more questions. "That's well and good. Thank you for that Doctor. But there's another significant problem." "What might that be?" "Something has slithered its way into my recruit's head. I want to know what." Zola pushed his circular glasses up against his crooked, chubby nose and smiled with a look of excitement and glee that Colonel Phillips didn't like. The chubby Swiss scientist stared into the Colonel's eyes as if battling for dominance. Neither one gave an inch. "I thought Schmitt's stories were utter fantasy, you must know this Colonel. The idea of extradimensional beings traveling by a rainbow bridge through nine realms including ours would have been called the ravings of a lunatic." Zola explained. "That much we have in common Doctor." "After what I witnessed firsthand, it is clear to me, one of the ancient ones that Schmitt reveres with so much passion has taken it upon himself to inhabit your...recruit." Phillips sat up straight and placed his arms on the table, clasping his hands together as he leaned over to the Doctor with a look of interest, "Who?" "I focused primarily on furthering the goals and technology of Hydra, but in my sparse studies on the subject that plagued the Skull's mind, one name came up: Aurgelmir. "Who is he?" "Lord of the giants. God of ice and death. The first being. The other gods killed his mortal body and fashioned their home with pieces of him. The ground from his flesh, the seas from his blood, the mountains from his bones, the stones from his teeth, the sky from his skull, and clouds from his brain. So the tales say." "How do we get him out?" "Who knows Colonel? What could possibly have enough power to drive out a primordial being?" Zola jeered. "I certainly hope you find a way before little Firebrand finally snaps." The Colonel trying to hold back a scowl, adjusted his tie and stood up, pushing the metal chair out of the way with a loud scrape. He proceeded towards the door and called out to the guard who opened and let him out, leaving Zola behind to gloat about the possibilities of chaos and mayhem that were sure to come. The trips and side paths back to England took the next three days but soon they made it back to the SSR office that had become their home for the past year. Steve could hardly believe it had been that long since he first found Firebrand in Austria. For them both, it now seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a rather surreal feeling. So much had happened and Steve wondered idly what the future would have in store for the both of them. After the war was over, what would be next for the duo? It was a question however, Steve and Firebrand would never get the chance to properly answer. They had a few hours to meet back with everyone and debrief in the mission control center. Colonel Phillips had gathered the entire American and English branches of the SSR into one room to discuss the endgame. A massive map of a mountain range was splayed over the wall the Colonel had been facing and everyone's eyes were on him alone. "Johann Schmitt belongs in a bug house. He thinks he's a god and he's willing to blow up half the Earth to prove it," the Colonel said. "And he's starting with the U.S.A. My country." "He's working with powers beyond our capabilities, if he gets across the Atlantic, he could wipe out the entire eastern sea board in an hour," Howard added. The entire room sat in silence, Steve and Firebrand looking at the surveillance photos of the last Hydra base. "How much time do we got left?" "According to my new best friend, under 48 hours." the Colonel replied grimly. "Where is he now?" Peggy asked. "In the Alps. Five hundred feet below the surface." He threw the photo of the base to Morita who inspected it with a sigh of anxiety. "So what are we supposed to do? Its not like we can just knock on the front door." Looking between Firebrand and Howard Stark with a look that made them smile with confidence, Steve looked back towards Colonel Phillip with one of his own. "You know what? That is exactly what we are gonna let Schmitt think we are doing." Steve said. Afterwards, Howard called Steve and Firebrand down to his lab for a few last gifts before they were to go off for what was to be their last mission. This time however, it was for Firebrand. He walked them over to a glass case covered by a large cloth. Firebrand followed alongside Steve, wondering what the eccentric man had in store for them this time. "You can thank the Colonel for providing the base. I took it upon myself to make some...adjustments." Howard said as he pulled off the cloth in a dramatic fashion. Underneath was a bomber jacket with flame patches on the sleeves. It had an unusual sheen and sparkle to it. It was somewhat smaller than a normal human jacket, but also still a bit big for the colt yet. The collar was sharp and smooth with a 91st logo on one of the edges. A golden pin of a flower on the breast pocket shone against the rest of it, complimenting the look. It was clearly tailored to fit the body shape of the colt. "What's this?" Steve asked. "Protection for the little guy. Figured the General's gift would make the perfect opportunity to try out my idea." Howard replied. "Though I may have oversized it. He could grow into it I guess." Steve opened the display case and held the jacket in his hands, noticing how rigid but flexible it felt. "That's a special coating I made, mixing tungsten, leftover dust from the portal the kid made, and another extra terrestrial substance we've taken to calling Orichalcum. Its heat absorbent, bullet proof, and repels electricity." Firebrand cooed with delight as Steve helped him try the jacket on, but found that it was a bit big for him. The sleeves hung low to the ground and Firebrand's mane was the only thing that visibly poked out of the collar. Suddenly, Firebrand got an idea as he ignited his horn in a red glow and focused on the jacket, remembering what Howard said about the metal dust he used. The jacket shrunk down in an instant to fit his child body and conformed perfectly to it. "Didn't know he could do that," Howard said goofily. "You surprise me every day!" "He always does. How does it feel bud?" The colt stepped around in it, liking how the jet black coloration complimented the ebony look of his shoes. Something about it though made him pause in thought. Another sensation that tickled the back of his mind. Like deja vu all over again. It was a good but troubling feeling. "I love it! But somehow...it feels really familiar. Like I've worn it before." Steve saw how he looked and could tell what he was feeling. "A memory?" "A little bit. More like a feeling. Just something that feels right." Howard pleased with his work, handed a note off to the two of them from Colonel. Steve held it up to the light and read it aloud for everyone in the room to hear. "I Colonel Chester Phillips with my power over the Strategic Scientific Reserve and support of Senator Grant, hereby recognize the unicorn Firebrand as a citizen of the United States of America and give him the honorary title of Lieutenant Colonel. As displayed by the golden flower pin I have given with this jacket given by General George Smith Patton Jr. Let the world know his title until such a time as he achieves the rank officially after he reaches the age of 18. Until then, he will be known to all as Commander Firebrand." "Thanks Uncle Philly!" Firebrand cried out the door. They could hear laughter coming from all over the hallway with that remark. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that!" the gruff Colonel yelled back. Steve got a small chuckle out of that himself before turning back to Howard, wondering what else he had in store for them. Several of Howard's technician's were gathered around another large object that was covered by an even larger cloth. Whatever it was reached up to 8 feet high and was five feet across. Some ducked underneath, making a few observations and writing them down in logs for future reference. Others were working on various new rifles and knives for the troops to use, but the primary focus was on this one object. "I heard about what happened in Denmark and as silly as it sounded, it gave me a bit of an idea. Firebrand's capabilities make him completely fireproof and coupled with his shoes and his new jacket, I think its time to unveil my latest bit of insanity yet. I haven't worked out the kinks yet so this may be a one off until I have it perfected." Howard dramatically pulled off the cloth, letting it fall to the ground in a heap with a soft flutter. What the duo saw, they weren't sure, but Firebrand was sure excited about it. A miniature howitzer tank only one quarter the size of a real one with what appeared to be an oversized collapsible primary barrel and a moving base that could clamp down into the dirt whenever it needed to fire. The technicians showed them a cavity in the back for climbing into. It was four foot across, allowing easy access for any human...or pony for use. "What in the world?" Steve asked. "I used my special magnetic induction technology on the barrel. In theory, when pressed against each other, it should provide enough force to launch the occupants out at 1400 miles/hour." "How and why would we ever use something like this?" Firebrand looked at it and laughed, rubbing his forehooves together menacingly. Just imagining the destruction he was going to cause... In Bavaria, the Red Skull was finally ready for his final offensive. Despite the temporary loss of the foal, he had obtained additional assets to assure his victory. Doctor Zola had done well until his capture. He knew that little time remained until the Americans and the Captain were at his doorstep. His bomber, The Valkyrie was nearly ready for final deployment. The only thing left to do was to prepare his thousands of heads for the day of victory that was to come. Even without the book from the Latverians, he still had a page ripped out that would provide him with the edge he needed against the Captain and the colt. In the hangar, his hybrid uber-troopers had assembled before him and he had popped open a bottle of his finest vintage to celebrate the occasion. With synthesized power from the colt in his eight elite soldiers combined with the power of the Tesseract, he would finally have his vengeance. "Tomorrow...Hydra will stand master of the world. Born to victory on the wings of the Valkyrie! Our enemies weapons will be powerless against us. With the capture of the unicorn...and his magic, the Tesseract will give us a path to conquering the universe and beyond. If they shoot down one plane, hundreds more will rain fire upon them! He poured a glass filled with the blood red wine and raised it high to his troops. "Cut off one head...two more shall take its place...Heil Hydra!" Every one of his uber-troopers simultaneously thrusted both arms upwards into a salute for their supreme overlord. "HEIL HYDRA! HEIL HYDRA! HEIL HYDRA!" The Red Skull turned around and grinned madly as five square miles of soldiers roared their proclamation, creating a blasting cacophony. "HEIL HYDRA! HEIL HYDRA! HEIL HYDRA! HEIL HYDRA!" Next Time: Cut Off One Head (part 1)