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