Chapter 60: The Ghost Riders' Gang Who Is Baron Zemo?

The first Baron Zemo, Heinrich Zemo, was active during World War II. He was one of Hitler's top confidants and a prominent figure in Hydra and the Third Reich, thanks to his baronial lineage stretching back 12 generations.

Initially, Heinrich wasn't all that interested in crossing paths with Captain America. A scientist and hereditary nobleman, he found physical combat beneath him—a disgrace to his family's prestigious tri-color flag.

However, things took a turn in the 1940s when Nick Fury, leading the Howling Commandos, raided Zemo's ancestral home and destroyed his experimental Doomsday Cannon. Forced into hiding with his wife and children, Heinrich became a globally wanted man.

To conceal his identity, he donned a purple mask with intricate patterns resembling Thanos' chin. His troubles compounded a few years later when Captain America stormed his lab working on Adhesive X. During the fight, Heinrich accidentally exposed himself to the adhesive, causing his mask to permanently fuse to his face and leaving him disfigured.

From then on, the Zemo family had an enduring vendetta against Captain America. Ironically, Cap soon froze in the Arctic, leaving Heinrich in a bittersweet state of unfulfilled revenge. After the fall of the Third Reich, Zemo relocated to South America, founding a small nation to amuse himself in his later years.

Upon learning that Captain America had been revived from his icy sleep in modern times, Heinrich promptly assembled his forces for one final confrontation—only to meet his end at the hands of his newly developed Doomsday Cannon.

The second Baron Zemo, Helmut Zemo, is arguably the family's most accomplished and notorious member. In this universe, he masterminded the "Day of Heroes' Fall" alongside the Red Skull. Realizing that each hero had their own arch-enemies, they orchestrated a massive collaboration among villains, exchanging adversaries to exploit their weaknesses.

What made this event particularly fascinating was that their strategy stemmed from files in Avengers Mansion's computer system. One paranoid Avenger had secretly documented every teammate's vulnerabilities—a fatal oversight that culminated in the infamous Tower of Babel incident.

After their success, Helmut Zemo claimed only a small piece of Canadian territory as his prize, earning Red Skull's approval. In contrast, greedier villains like Magneto and Norman Osborn demanded multiple U.S. states.

In the scorching wastelands, a battered Jeep sped across the arid desert, leaving deep tracks in the sand. The harsh sunlight reflected off the vehicle's worn surface, casting dazzling glints.

Frank Castle was behind the wheel, while Noah sat in the passenger seat with his eyes closed, seemingly at ease.

They were traveling north through South Dakota, en route to North Dakota. The Jeep belonged to the Madrox gang, parked outside a canyon alongside two heavily modified school buses whose stench made one pinch their nose in disgust.

As the Jeep crossed the barren terrain, a mountain range emerged on the western horizon. One side of the mountain featured four colossal faces carved into the rock, their expressions lifelike as if narrating ancient tales to the passersby.

Noah kept his eyes shut, unfazed by the sight, as though it were a mundane occurrence. Quicksilver, sitting in the back, leaned forward curiously to inspect the faces.

However, as the Jeep drew closer, the passengers noticed something peculiar. To the right of the fourth face was a newer, larger carving—a menacing skull.

Pietro glanced at Wanda, who was also gazing at the skull. Neither said a word.

"Did you hear that? Was that a motorcycle engine?" Noah suddenly opened his eyes and reached for his gun, scanning their surroundings with heightened vigilance.

Frank gave Noah a sidelong glance, instantly grasping his concern. Without hesitation, he floored the gas pedal, and the Jeep roared toward Mount Rushmore.

They couldn't afford to be exposed. Finding cover was paramount to avoid a potential ambush.

The Jeep eventually came to a stop on the shadowed side of a slope. Everyone disembarked, prepared for a fight.

Soon, a gang of bikers appeared from behind a distant ridge, their motorcycles roaring as they raced forward. The riders wore tattered leather outfits and had white skull designs painted on their faces, making them look like demons of the wasteland.

What stood out most were their motorcycles. The wheels were wreathed in flames that seemed to merge with the desert's hues of red and gold. The fiery tires left vivid streaks as they blazed across the ground, their exhausts emitting colorful plumes of fire, creating an awe-inspiring spectacle.

The bikers howled as they closed in, spinning spiked chains above their heads. The chains whistled ominously, their sharp tips gleaming menacingly.

"Is this some kind of Ghost Rider cosplay?" Pietro muttered with a bemused expression.

It was the third bizarre sight he'd encountered today, after the Madrox clones and the Red Skull carving.

"Too bad they forgot to light their heads on fire," Frank sneered, grabbing a rifle.

Noah shrugged. "Laugh all you want, but the Ghost Riders' Gang is one of the biggest factions in these wastelands."

Other notable gangs included the Hulk Gang and the Punishers, not to mention the endless hordes of Madrox clones that seemed impossible to eradicate.

The bikers charged with wild cries. Frank raised his gun and opened fire, picking off several riders with precision. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, staining the desert red.

Instead of retreating, the remaining bikers became more enraged, spurring their flaming bikes forward. Noah calmly took aim, firing clean, lethal shots that brought down more riders. Their bikes careened out of control, crashing spectacularly into the sand.

Now, only two bikers remained. Wanda raised her hand, and their motorcycles were suddenly lifted off the ground by an unseen force. The riders flailed in panic, but it was futile.

With a flick of her wrist, Wanda sent the bikes hurtling to the ground. They crashed with a deafening boom, scattering metal shards and leaving deep craters in the sand.

As the dust settled, the surviving bikers groaned in pain, lying amid the wreckage.

"Some big gang they are," Pietro quipped with a smirk.

One biker managed to prop himself up, spitting out blood and a few teeth. "How much… how much did the Madrox gang pay you to come after us?" he rasped, his voice filled with bitterness.