Volume 4 Chapter 25: Joey’s Work

“What happened? An earthquake?”

Two blocks away from the Casablanca bank building, a street suddenly shook slightly. An American soldier dropped down, pressing his ear tightly against the pavement, listening carefully.

“No, not an earthquake. The sound seems… getting louder!” The soldier’s face changed. He jumped up from the ground and frantically waved his arms at his comrades nearby. “Quick… get away from here! Something’s coming up from below!”

BOOM! As the crowd scrambled away, the ground at the center of the street violently bulged upwards. A massive chunk of concrete shot skywards like a champagne cork. Dust and gravel spewed from the underground like a volcanic eruption.

“Cough, cough! What is that thing?”

After the Allied Forces cleared away the German assault troops in the downtown area, American paratroopers of the 101st Airborne began setting up defenses again in the central zone. Using the ruins and sandbags, they built a ring-shaped fortification centered around the museum. Strangely, their rifles weren’t pointed outward, but inward.

Inside this area, the underground entrances and exits of the museum were heavily guarded. The bank building and police station were also locked down tight. Nearly every inch of land was covered by intersecting fields of fire from machine guns and mortars.

The troubled street happened to be outside this main fortification. The 101st Division had only positioned a single sandbagged machine gun nest at the street corner, with few soldiers to guard it. The Allied command hadn’t anticipated the “Gentlemen Alliance” taking such an extraordinary route, directly bursting forth from the ground.

From the swirling smoke, the dust particles reshaped themselves into the form of a beautiful young woman holding a parasol.

“Fire! Fire!” The paratroopers of the 101st were battle-hardened veterans. As soon as Madame Monica appeared, they reacted. A U.S. lieutenant barked out tense orders to his men.

RAT-TAT-TAT! The distinct typewriter-like rattle of Thompson submachine guns interwove with the heavier roar of the M2 Browning machine guns like a deadly concert.

The paratroopers’ marksmanship was excellent. Madame Monica instantly turned to swiss cheese.

BAM! A .50 caliber machine gun bullet struck Madame Monica, the Queen of Sandstorm, squarely in the cheek. Her head looked like a rotten apple hit by a bite, the entire left eye socket vanished. Sand streamed out from the gaping hole.

“Rude men!” A dark coldness flickered on the Queen of Sandstorm’s still-intact right cheek.

She had spent a night locked in a water tank like a lab rat. Though finally rescued by Joey, for the Queen of Sandstorm, whose pride was paramount, having her comrades witness such a humiliating state was worse than death itself. The barely contained rage simmering inside her now was immense.

The Queen of Sandstorm raised her left hand slowly while holding the parasol protectively in front with her right. Bullets slammed into its surface, sending bright sparks flying. The sheer screen-like fabric now acted like a diamond shield, blocking most of the fire.

As she lifted her left hand, the scattered rubble and gravel on the ground seemed to gain sentience. They levitated in the air, swirling around the Sandstorm Queen.

“Go!” the beautiful woman whose face had magically repaired itself commanded softly. A storm of shattered stone and grit shot like a wind-driven rain towards the Allied fortification across the street.

“Get down!” the American lieutenant screamed, his voice raw. But his warning came too late. Nearly half the soldiers erupted in crimson sprays. They clutched their wounds, crumpling onto the sandbags.

“Damn it! You… run! To Division Command! Tell them those German superhumans showed up in Sector 3! Have them send the 52nd Tank Battalion! We can’t hold long!” The lieutenant reacted, grabbing a nearby soldier.

“Yes, sir!” the soldier acknowledged loudly, bending low as he turned to sprint rearward.

CRACK! The soldier’s steel helmet was violently snatched away. Blood and brain matter erupted from the back of his skull, splattering the lieutenant’s head and face.

“How? He wasn’t exposed!” The stunned lieutenant gaped in disbelief. He completely failed to notice a single pebble had curved around the fortification, hovering silently beside his left temple.

THUD! A smoking hole punched through the lieutenant’s temple as a jet of blood pumped out. A look of utter confusion froze on his face as he collapsed. The sounds of the world faded, seeming to retreat farther and farther away.

“Madame Monica, how are things outsi— Oh? Looks like you already cleaned up the mess!” Skorzeny leapt nimbly onto the street surface. He raised an eyebrow at the silent fortifications devoid of living men ahead.

“You all have serious injuries. Leave the next part to me!” The Sandstorm Queen seemed cheered slightly after slaughtering the paratroopers. Her lips twisted in a cold smile. “I’ll make the Americans feel the saying ‘War keeps women away’… just a joke around here!”

…

“Leader, we’ve cleared the passage!”

Not long after Skorzeny’s group left the underground lab, the blocked tunnel was finally breached by the “Justice League”. A muscular blonde man strode through the rubble into the lab, carrying a round shield emblazoned with the American Stars and Stripes.

Following him, dozens of superhumans of varied appearance entered the now-deserted lab. Scanning their surroundings, their gaze quickly fixed upon the large reinforced glass tank dominating the center of the room.

Without Madame Monica the Sandstorm Queen imprisoned inside, and with the mixing machines at its base shut down, the water within the tank had become exceptionally clear. Inside it was now perfectly visible.

“Professor Kathleen!” Several agonized cries tore from the assembled group. Multiple figures lunged desperately towards the large water tank.

Kathleen floated in the very center of the tank, eyes closed, her expression serene. Long, soft blonde hair fanned out around her, lending her a strangely tranquil, peaceful beauty.

The beautiful professor’s head drifted gently with the water. The entire tank was like a crystal-clear amber, seemingly preserving this beauty, presenting it intact across a vast gulf of time.

When he killed Kathleen, Joey hadn’t had time to turn her into a Skeletal Angel. So he’d created this instead, leaving behind a unique “artwork” for the Justice League’s superhumans.

“Dr. Kathleen!” Indiana Jones stepped forward slowly. He pressed his hand against the clear crystal pane of the tank. A flash of remorse and guilt crossed his eyes.

The archaeologist had never hated himself more. He wished he had fallen fighting alongside Kathleen in the tunnel, rather than seeing this now.

“Before they leave Casablanca, we still have chance!” Steve Rogers removed the blue mask covering his face. Captain America spun around, his voice thick with anger as he shouted at the others. “Catch them! Send them back to Hell! That’s where the Nazis belong!”

…

“Welcome back triumphant, Lieutenant Colonel Skorzeny!”

When Skorzeny and his group returned to another hidden safehouse prepared by German Intelligence, someone was already waiting in the room.

It was a middle-aged soldier wearing an SS uniform. He had a square jaw and a thin mustache. He gripped a snake-headed walking cane, a Hydra insignia pinned to his collar. Beside him stood a tall assistant wearing a bright silver mask.

“Wolfgang? Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on the Eastern Front?” Skorzeny asked in surprise.

“I received a handwritten order from the Führer. He sent me to Casablanca to support you. I arrived this dawn, right when you were leaving to start your operation!” The middle-aged man stroked his mustache, gesturing to the figure behind him. “This is my deputy… just call him the Red Skull. Now, Lieutenant Colonel, won’t you introduce the members of the ‘Gentlemen Alliance’ to me?”

“Oh… This is Wolfgang von Stark, commander of the former Brandenburg unit, currently heading up the Reich’s Hydra special forces… Baron Stark!” Skorzeny collected himself and gave a brief introduction.

“Lieutenant Colonel, since arriving in Casablanca, I found the Allies seemingly had already set traps targeting the ‘Heracles Plan’. Did you achieve anything from this mission?” the Hydra leader asked cautiously.

“Hmm, our assassination attempt failed. The ‘Justice League’ assembled over thirty superpowered beings!” Skorzeny admitted with frustration. “But… in a sense, we still succeeded. We obtained most of the research documentation pertaining to the Allies’ ‘Super Soldier Program’.”

“You acquired the Super Soldier training data?” The Red Skull, who had been silent behind Baron Stark, suddenly interrupted. “So the goal Hydra strove so long for… the Oranienburg Unit achieved it first?”

“Silence!” Baron Stark frowned slightly, turning to snap at him. “What unit succeeds for the Reich… is not important!”

“Yes, Baron!” Red Skull answered respectfully, tightening his lips once more.

“If you have those research documents, this mission can hardly be called a failure!” Baron Stark, done with scolding his deputy, rubbed his hands together with evident delight. “Even arriving too late for the action, hearing such news makes the trip worthwhile!”

“No, you aren’t late!” Skorzeny suddenly spoke in a low, grave tone. “Our mission isn’t over!”

Hearing this, Stark and Red Skull exchanged startled glances.

“Lieutenant Colonel, forgive my bluntness, but after your actions today, assassinating the Big Three leaders is impossible now. The ‘Justice Alliance’ must be escorting them away already.” Stark frowned. “Hydra doesn’t lack courage, but…”

“Our target isn’t the three leaders!” A slight smile finally cracked Skorzeny’s serious expression. “One of our radiomen intercepted a secret Allied transmission during the recent fighting. Furthermore, a document from the enemy’s lab confirmed the intelligence!”

“Let him explain it to you!” Skorzeny waved his hand, signaling Lin Feng to step forward.

After listening to Lin Feng’s account, Stark and Red Skull both registered surprise.

“Well, well, Lieutenant Colonel, it seems you’ve provided us with quite a shock.” Baron Stark stood abruptly. He paced the room, tapping his cane. “The Gentlemen Alliance has already earned considerable merit, and most of your men are severely wounded. Board the submarine immediately with the ‘Super Soldier Program’ research. Leave the next phase to Hydra.”