The First Step

When Wilhelm left a crucified Dr. Wilson at the front entrance of Fordham Plaza, people no doubt were horrified. TV news station, newspaper, internet. It was pure chaos. Hell, some even witnessed the sight itself, with their own eyes. Needless to say, it became the most talked news, and the most disturbing one of all by the time Wilhelm woke up from his 3-hour slumber after spending the rest of the morning searching for any HYDRA's lair in New York.

Unfortunately, it yielded no result. Fortunately, he did catch a few rats here and there, and 'questioned' them thoroughly before letting S.H.I.E.L.D handle the rest. Regardless of not able to learn anymore of HYDRA's hideouts as they were too law-ranked in their hierarchy, at least Wilhelm knows all the areas the bastards usually focus on to acquire more... 'lab rats'.

Obviously, they all tried to take the Cyanide pills. Knocking a few teeth out really helped him settle his anger and the bitterness in his heart down. That shithole of a place, he had the dream about 'that place' after years trying to bury it. Different Earths, but same shit.

The black coffee tastes particularly bitter today.

"Why the long face, Will? Is everything alright there?"

Wilhelm looks up from his cup of coffee. Calida, now with white hair and blue eyes—which he dubs as her 'casual look'—pauses her hearty English breakfast and gazes at him worriedly. He blinks, and breathes out a sigh, shaking his head.

"Not really," Wilhelm admits, idly watching other patrons walk into the eatery with his distant gaze. Some talking about what happened last night. Some intently watching the anchors report the event, with a censored photo of the crucified Dr. Wilson on the screen.

"How horrible. Who could do such a thing?" one whispers.

"That fucker got it coming," another sneers. "He's the one who kidnapped all those poor kids in the Bronx! Now the police only need him to admit where they're."

"Still, it doesn't justify what this person did to this Dr. Wilson."

"I honestly don't care. If the police can't do their job properly, someone else has to."

Wilhelm ignores the conversation as it quickly devolves into an argument. Indeed, what he did was fucked up and probably traumatized a lot of people, but he needed to send a message. He has little to no intention of letting them go, not after what they did. It will not be easy taking them down. They might be defeated at the hands of Steve Rogers, Captain America, in 1945. But...

'Operation Paperclip'. Arnim Zola was one of 1600 Nazi German scientists and engineers who were brought to the United States and, God helps him, pardoned for their so-called activities in WW2 in exchange for federal employment. Arnim Zola, HYDRA's top scientist, joined S.H.I.E.L.D.

Without question, the idea S.H.I.E.L.D is perchance compromised seems not so far-fetched.

"To think all this started from Adam's purchase of our home." Wilhelm sighs. "Funny how the world works at times. How did we go from unraveling the mystery of the house to kids being experimented to produce super soldiers, Calida?"

"I have no idea." Calida smiles assuredly. "Though, whatever happens, you have both me and Adam now. Besides, I believe God has plans for us all, so who knows?"

"...Coming from a former Archdemon, that sounds kind of strange," Wilhelm remarks dryly, before he laughs light-heartedly. "But yeah. I have you and Adam now, that much is true. Still, I am a little conflicted about you joining my crusade against HYDRA."

"Well, we make a fantastic team, don't we?"

"Eh, we only teamed up for the first time yesterday. Too early for any proper judgement."

Calida puffs her cheeks cutely at Wilhelm's comment.

"Either way," Wilhelm continues, turning more serious, "since we made our move and our intention known, HYDRA will no doubt change how their operations in New York work from onwards. They will not and cannot ignore us, I am certain. Not after what we did. It is going to be... harder to locate more of their lairs. That being said, we do have one advantage."

Calida looks to Wilhelm while chewing a piece of black pudding—which is basically blood sausage—silently urging him to continue.

"They have no bloody clue of your existence, for now," he elaborates. "While we were fighting those motherfuckers yesterday, Adam took the liberty to tamper with their camera system. Aside all those scientists who we rescued along the children—I tweaked their memories and left out the part where they saw you—they can only assume the massacre was the work of one man."

"But their corpses say otherwise," Calida retorts as she gulps down her food. "You shot and literally tore people into pieces with your hands. Your kills were messy. Mine were clean cuts that guaranteed instant deaths. Some will bound to notice this difference sooner or later."

"Your logic is sound." Wilhelm folds his arms. "Even when I do not kill, I do admit most of victims are usually left in rather messy states, as you pointed out. Though, presuming HYDRA compromises S.H.I.E.L.D, so far from their observation of me, they think I work alone. Even if they do manage to connect this me to the Ghost, you think the Fantastic Four and Ms. Marvel would do something like crucifying somebody to send a bloody message?"

"I... see."

"Think about it. Granted that some might come to the conclusion that somebody else was with me, no one knows who the second person that was with me was. They might begin building a profile on me. But you? They got basically nothing right now, aside from your, uh... fighting style."

Wilhelm exhales with a grin as he drops his arms.

"Cannot believe I am going to say this, but your powers and skills make you one frightening assassin. No one is going to know anything by the time you are done with your target."

Huh. Calida sure looks delighted at the assessment, which is pretty disturbing in that form. He knows he said this a few times, but it will take a while for him to get used to this. She appears like a child at times, but she is far from it. Wilhelm is well-aware of the smile on her face when she cut them down last night. Disturbing and ruthlessly efficient, but still disturbing.

"As much as I do not like this, knowing what kind of people we are going against, I need you... and your strength, Calida," Wilhelm continues. "Since you are now a part of this crusade, we should try and work on our chemistry, knowing what, where, how, and when to assist each other."

"But wouldn't that defeat the purpose of me being the advantage you're talking about?"

"With you around, I doubt it will last long." Wilhelm deadpans. "We are alike, you know. Going in with guns blazing suit us better. Should they eventually begin building a profile on you, keep most of your powers hidden. Fool them. Let them know you only have your sword and are ridiculously good with using it, and your ability to teleport. But yeah, we cannot let them connect this form that you are using to the one who accompanies the Ghost. Different hair and eye color will not cut it."

"That can be easily managed."

"...Right. Magic." Which Calida does the V-shaped peace sign with her fingers. "Still... is using them a lot going to harm you, or anything similar to it?"

Calida shakes her head. "Archdemons have a lot of mana reserve. It will only take the likes like the Spirit of Vengeance to truly exhaust me."

"You really are overpowered, you know that. And so is Bones," Wilhelm muses. "Come to think of it, you and me, it does sound like a recipe of an imminent disaster waiting to be unleashed."

He would not dare to think of the damages, should either of them decide to let loose.

Calida and Wilhelm make some more idle chatter, with the girl wanting to try sushi and curry while the man waits for her to finish her breakfast. As the plate is empty of food, spotless, Wilhelm reaches to his wallet and put the money under his now-empty cup of coffee. Calida taps on the table, making a magical dome-shaped barrier around them break down; the barrier stops other from hearing their conversation. Wilhelm does not forget to leave a generous tip in the tip jar as they leave.

"So—" Calida turns to Wilhelm as they walk down the streets "—where to next?"

"N.Y.P.D," Wilhelm answers. "The rats I caught yesterday did not provide me any information about their other lairs. But I did learn something... interesting about the police force. Do tell me, how would you bring somebody down?"

"Destroy the foundation they're standing on?"

"Exactly." Wilhelm smiles simply. "Perhaps those rats are easy to be replaced. However, rid enough of them, and the bigger ones have no choice but to take actions. Then, we strike. We also need the evidence that tells our friend they are not as secured as they are led to believe. If we could afford to trust them in the first place, that is."

Calida feels a chill going down her spines as she stares at Wilhelm's casual smile. There is something about it that... frightens her. And that brief glint in his gaze.

"For now, we seek allies. Two people alone cannot take them down."

Which Calida silently breathes out as his smile returns to one that she is comfortable with.

"Then, what do you suggest, Will?"

"Let us remove the rotten apples that bring bad reputations to honest and hard-working folks."

=

HYDRA is still active.

The four words dreaded Nick Fury to no end when an anonymous number hacked into his secured line to contact him this early morning. Understandably, he was skeptical at the absurd claim. That is until they sent him a video file of an armored suit with a skull helmet on fire laying wastes on every poor bastard firing and attacking him.

It did not mean anything, until Fury took notice of the logo on the shoulder of the uniforms of those poor bastards: red skull head and octopus tentacles. He immediately ordered Agent Romanoff and a bunch more agents operating around New York to investigate the matters, whilst internally hoping somebody was using the name and the logo to put the blame on something that exists no more.

He was dead wrong when his agents forwarded him the files and their findings.

Sitting on his chair and staring absent-mindedly at the documents on his desk, Fury rests his back on the chair, inhaling and exhaling, as he massages his temples.

"...Fuck," Fury mutters tiredly. The director of S.H.I.E.L.D straightens his back, breathing deeply.

"Agent Hill," Fury says into his comm. "Recall Agent Coulson asap. We got a red code."

=

Captain George Stacy is not having a good day. Right now, saying N.Y.P.D is in an uproar is a mere understatement. People started freaking out as soon as the news of a crucified Dr. Wilson was made live during the early hours of the morning. The headaches, the papers, the interviews. Not counting the fact he needs to make a statement regarding this barbaric action as someone who is taking charge of investigating and searching for missing children in Bronx.

That, and before he could get anything else from this Dr. Wilson—one creepy son of a bitch—people from the government took him from the hospital that was treating him. And his superior telling him to keep it out of the statement. Today is going to be a long day. Christ almighty, he really hates his job sometimes. He needs a vacation soon.

Which does not go unnoticed by his bright and beautiful daughter, Gwendolyne Stacy.

"You okay, dad?"

George blinks, as he feels his daughter's hand placing over his hand. He looks to the passenger side and spots the worried blue gaze on Gwen's face, prompting him to soften his face.

"It's nothing," George reassures, which does not seem to convince his daughter. "Don't be worried. I'm a little tired to think about what I'm going to face today."

Gwen makes an understanding face. She saw the news while making breakfast for her and her dad. Even though the photo of that doctor is censored, she got goosebumps looking at it.

"You're gonna hold a press conference this morning, right?"

"That's right. I'm not looking forward to it." George chuckles softly. "Enough about me. I notice you look rather excited these past days, especially after the break. Any upcoming excitement you would like to share to your dear old dad?"

"Well, Oscorp agreed to let Midtown High School tour the place!" Gwen beams. "I'm gonna show my classmates and Petra where I work next week. Isn't that just exciting~?"

George smiles teasingly. "You can't seem to stop talking about that Petra missie. You sure you don't have a crush on her, my daughter? When can I meet my future daughter-in-law?"

"D-Daaaaaad~," Gwen groans, blushing madly. "It's not like that! I already told you!"

"It's all right. You don't have to hide." George ignores his daughter's growing embarrassment, whilst his smile widens slightly. "Your dad might be an old and faithful Christian, but he can be open—"

"School's here! Gotta go! Bye, dad! Love you, dad!"

Which Gwen exits the patrol police car and slams the door shut as soon as George stops before her high school. Fuming with a pout on her face, she marches into the school with a red-beet face, draws attention and a few snickers to her.

"Love you too," George speaks into the police P.A system with a wide grin, further embarrassing the lovely blonde-headed teenage girl, as she turns back and sends him a soft glare.

"Daaaaaaaad!"

The man chortles as he drives off. However, the delighted mood sours, with him begins to think the day ahead which is waiting for him to face.

Half an hour later, and he finds himself striding across the bustling hall, onwards to his office, with a grimace on his face. The press conference will be held in fifteen minutes and George needs to make himself look presentable before the cameras.

Entering his office, George makes his way to the window, and opens the blinds. Then, the sound of a heavy footfall, the kind which he has never heard before. Feeling uneasy, and the fact he hears no door opening after he went inside, George instantly pulls out his gun and turns around. Both his eyes widen, before they narrow, when he aims at a person cladding in a plate-armored suit. Their glowing blue eyes of their helmet stare at him, while they nonchalantly fold their arms and lean their back to the wall next to the office door.

"You have three seconds to tell who you're before I shoot you down right here, right now."

"And risk the bullet ricocheting off my suit and hit you back?" The voice is filtered, but it is definitely a male. "I would not do that if I were you, Captain Stacy. But your choice."

George narrows his eyes further. His grip on his gun tightens. "...Who're you? And what the hell do you want from me?"

"I need to be sure myself you are not of them," the man answers cryptically.

"One of who?"

The man looks to George, saying nothing for a moment. "A lot of your colleagues know the identities of the child kidnappers, the same people responsible for the missing children in Bronx," he clarifies, making George gape.

"Th-That's impossible. They wouldn't—"

"After dealing with that doctor, I went and found several more rats lurking around Bronx, searching for more eligible children while unaware of what was going on. Upon questioning them, they... well, let us just say admitted they bribed the police and have several of their men infiltrated the force."

"Dealing with that doctor—!" George realizes alarmingly. "You're the one responsible for the—"

"The crucifying, yes. But that is not important."

"How's that not important?!" George seethes, slowly losing his cool. "What you did is no better than a criminal! Even if he was responsible for the kidnapping, certain procedures must be followed! It is within his rights—"

"That sick bastard no longer has any human rights when he experimented on children."

George feels his blood run cold at the words and the cold distorted voice. "Wh-What do you..."

The man takes out a photo from one of his pouches on his belt before he casually walks to George. The blue glowing gaze never leaves him.

George steels his nerves and tightens his grip on his gun, expecting an attack; which he only sees the man placing the said photo right on his working desk. Curious, while remaining wary, George peers at the photo, only to nearly drop his weapon and staggers.

"Lord Almighty. Wh-What's this...?" George whispers, snapping his head to the unidentified man. A room filled with d-dead children. What kind of madness is this?

"That room is where that doctor stored his failed... products," the man replies. "If you are wondering where those children are, there is your answer. Though, the rest is okay. People from the government are taking care of them. Although, I am not so sure about that either."

George remains silent, seemingly still shaken.

"Now, back to the matter at hand," the man continues. "Like I stated, I had to make sure if you are also letting these cocksuckers do as they please like some of your colleagues. Fortunately, it is assuring to know there are still honest cops in the force."

"...What do you want?" George finally asks, sheathing his gun.

"Ridding the bad apples."

"Are you going to also—"

"Whatever you are thinking, no. Not to all of them." George narrows his eyes at the answer. "Some might take bribes to turn a blind eye to those kidnappings. And some might be threatened, coerced, or blackmailed. Heck, some of those bastards are already a part of N.Y.P.D. The first and the third group, I already am out of mercy for them."

"You don't get to play judge, jury and executioner in this city, vigilante."

"I am not expecting you to agree with my method; and that is fine by me. However, ignoring several of your rotten colleagues, you think bringing those who are responsible for the kidnappings to trials and throwing them into jail will be the end of it? Trust me, no, it will not. Because the very next day, they will no longer be there, in their cells. That is how powerful, and dangerous they really are. They can easily make your daughter and you disappear. Poof, gone. As if no longer exist."

"Are you threatening my family?"

"More like informing the kind of scumbags we are talking about here. Remember those men in the government? Dressed in black and picked Dr. Wilson up from his hospital? They have to deal with those kinds of people. So, start imagining how serious and fucked up this shit is, Captain."

George pauses, wide-eyed. "How do you know...?"

"I have my ways," the man answers vaguely. "And look, Captain, I do respect honest cops like you, who are trying to keep the city and its citizens safe. And as somebody who was a father once, I know you wish to make New York a safer place for your precious little girl. I honestly respect that."

"Then let us do our job as the police," George retorts softly, sounding almost pleadingly. "You don't have to do walk down this path. I don't agree with what you did to Wilson but I can understand why you're angry at him, at them. You can rest assured and let the police handle this."

"...That is not possible, Captain. I cannot let the police involve in this. Not because I do not want to, but because this is war you cannot win. Honest and hard-working cops will die needlessly. And I am sure as hell I do not wish to see you under six feet because of this. I am... already taking enough risk to tell you all this, Captain Stacy."

"Then why bother telling me?"

"Because I feel obligated to tell you, someone who is responsible to solve this children-missing case," the man says earnestly. "If you really care about your daughter... do not involve yourself in this any further. They will not like it if somebody starts putting their nose in their business. Knowing the kinds of scumbags that they are, they will target your daughter to send a message, not you. Leave it to me and people who are ready to dirty their hands."

Suddenly, George's phone beeps, prompts him to take it out from his pant's pocket. On the screen, there is a notification with a number on it, which confuses him.

"That is my number. Secured line. No one will be able to eavesdrop," the man continues. "Looking at your profile, I know you will not do anything stupid, but will not sit idly when some shits are going on behind the scene either. Here is my proposal for you. Remember the rotten apples I was speaking of? Help me identify them in N.Y.P.D, but DO NOT directly confront them. Those people who are manipulating behind the scene will know. Tell me instead. I will be letting you deal with the unwilling accomplices. But for the willing ones... Fret not. Killing them would be a too easy way out for them cocksuckers."

"...What makes you think I believe what you said, or agree with your proposal?"

The man shrugs. "Either that, or even more innocent children would disappear and die because the police are aiding the criminals; and you will be the last honest cop in N.Y.P.D. So?"

George stares at the man, contemplating the options, weighing the pros and the cons. In the end, he let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly nods. "Very well. I won't involve in this any further, and I'll help you locate the rotten apples. However, if you go too far, I won't hesitate to hunt you down and throw you in jail, vigilante."

"Fret not. I know a difference between real scumbags and people who are forced into doing terrible things." The man snorts. "Besides, if you think I am mad, I would have killed every one of those that committed petty crimes last night instead reporting them to the police."

George blinks. "Those anonymous calls in Bronx, that was you all along?"

"The one and only."

The man turns his back to George and tilts his head over his shoulder. "Just do what you do best as N.Y.P.D officers. Let us do the dirty works behind the scene. And I wish the best for your impending press conference, Captain. Have a good day."

"Wait!" George calls out. "Who're you really?"

"...The media calls me The Ghost."

Before George could say anything else, he widens his eyes as the man just disappears, vanishes into thin air right in front his eyes. George breathes out, putting a palm over his forehead whilst evening his breaths. He just had a conversation with the Ghost... despite not feeling like it was one. He looks to the photo, the haunting photo, and decides to rip it apart and burns it with his lighter. Surprisingly, the photo is burnt off within a flash, leaving behind nothing, no ashes.

At the same time, an officer knocks on the door, getting George's attention as he let them enter.

"Captain, the press conference is ready in 5 minutes. Are you ready yet?" the female officer asks.

"Almost," George replies smoothly, smiling. "Just need to check my tie and all."

"Yes, captain. I'll inform the chief you'll be there soon."

"Thank you."

As the female officer leaves and closes the door, George exhales and slumps his shoulder.

"Lord gives me strength," George mutters under his breath. "I hope I did not make a deal with the Devil. Please watch over me... for this uncertain path I'm heading towards."

=

"Do you think Captain Stacy's going to do anything drastic?"

"He will not. He is a righteous man, for sure. But he also knows what is at stake here. He is not going to do anything that puts his daughter in any harm's way."

"How do you know, Will?"

"Because I was a father, once. A long time ago."

Calida bobs her head, swinging her legs happily while she is getting a shoulder ride. Wilhelm on the other hand is carrying a small cube in his hand as the duo makes their way through the main ground hall to visit the Fantastic Four from the back of Baxter Building; after all Wilhelm did promise to let Adam help Reed with creating an advanced A.I.

Along the way, being the 'local hero' after that Dr. Doom's incident, people around this part of the city seem to recognize him more, as several approach to take autograph and picture. Of course, the man politely declines, much to his fans' disappointment.

Aside Reed's A.I, Wilhelm is going to see if the Fantastic Four has parts for Adam's upgrade.

His inner 8-year-old is smiling with glee at the moment.

As they make a turn, Wilhelm's nose picks up a familiar scent. Before long, as they reach the elevator, they come across a certain blonde-haired beauty with her captivating blue eyes. The said woman is dressing casually in a white blouse and fitted jeans, alongside a jacket and heeled boots.

Carol Danvers, the woman whom Wilhelm made love to a few days ago, and possibly knocked her up with his child during the entire deed. Luckily, the bedroom is sound-proof and ready for the 2nd round if she wants to do it with him again.

"C-Carol?" Wilhelm calls, surprised to see Carol here, as she turns to face him. "What are you doing here? Going to meet the gang too?"

Carol, however, looks to him with a confused gaze, and tilts her head. That gaze on her face begins to worry him a bit.

"Um. Excuse me, but what have we met before...?"

"...What?"

=