TM-216: Impossible
Impossible
It was impossible. That’s what Sharon would have thought, just two years ago. Impossible for the Red Skull to come so close to executing a plan of such grand magnitude. But that had been while Steve was alive. Without Steve, no evil was impossible.
Not that Sharon thought of the Skull’s plan as evil, most of the time. Only in those brief moments of clarity did she see the scheme for what it truly was: terrorism on a massive scale. They were going to destroy the economy - the mortgages, the oil prices, the gold standard. They were going to destroy the peace, by riling up protests, and starting riots. They had 2,000 soldiers on base and hundreds more working as moles in SHIELD and elsewhere, all under Faustus’ control. With that kind of an army, they could do anything. They could truly destroy America.
And the base was huge. Eight long barracks were arranged in a horseshoe shape, with the main offices located in a smaller building at the center of the semicircle’s arch. That was where the Skull did his planning, joined by Faustus. She hadn’t yet seen any sign of Arnim Zola, or of Crossbones and Sin, but Sharon would not have been surprised if they were in there as well.
Sharon wasn’t invited into their confidences. She was a soldier like any other, albeit a high-ranking one. Instead, when she arrived at the base after her flight through the New York City sewer system, she was immediately put to work training the recruits in advanced hand-to-hand combat techniques. They were good soldiers - fit, strong, quick learners. But they were still only Kronas security guards, and they needed the kinds of skills that they hadn’t been given in their security training. Sharon lined them up in the center of the horseshoe and demonstrated techniques, making them practice with a partner. Some of the things she taught had been part of her SHIELD training, years ago. But some were things Steve himself had taught her. It was a fact that hadn’t gotten past the Skull.
“That is an interesting move you are teaching, Fraulein Carter,” he’d said, coming up behind her with a leather-gloved hand on her shoulder. “Vere haff I seen it before?”
Sharon had flinched. Her true mind, beneath the layers of guilt and manipulation, cried out for release. Cried out against the Skull’s subtle mockery of the best man she’d ever known. But the louder voice, a voice that was hers and Faustus’ all at once, was more persuasive. You killed him, Sharon. The least you can do is use his legacy to promote this worthy cause.
“It is a tactic of the enemy, Herr Skull,” Sharon replied, her voice submissive and monotone. “It will take them off-guard.”
The mask didn’t move, but Sharon could swear she saw him grin. “Very good, Fraulein. Very good.”
That night, when her mind was finally free, Sharon dreamt that someone would figure out what was happening. She’d never trusted Tony Stark as far as she could throw him, but some part of her hoped that he’d finally put the pieces together about SHIELD. He’d never been a stupid man, whatever his flaws. He’d find Fury; he’d contact Val. They’d work together, and they’d stop it. Or, perhaps Sam - Sam had to know something was going on, after she’d disappeared so suspiciously. Perhaps he could round up other heroes, find her, stop the Skull’s plan before it was too late.
And maybe, just maybe, Steve would return, too. Maybe he hadn’t died of blood loss, after all. Maybe his body had healed itself. Maybe he’d come back, and take down the Skull, and Sharon’s brain could release at least the tiniest bit of its crushing guilt.
But even the purest, safest corner of Sharon’s mind knew that was impossible.
It was impossible. That’s what Sharon would have thought, just two years ago. Impossible for the Red Skull to come so close to executing a plan of such grand magnitude. But that had been while Steve was alive. Without Steve, no evil was impossible.
Not that Sharon thought of the Skull’s plan as evil, most of the time. Only in those brief moments of clarity did she see the scheme for what it truly was: terrorism on a massive scale. They were going to destroy the economy - the mortgages, the oil prices, the gold standard. They were going to destroy the peace, by riling up protests, and starting riots. They had 2,000 soldiers on base and hundreds more working as moles in SHIELD and elsewhere, all under Faustus’ control. With that kind of an army, they could do anything. They could truly destroy America.
And the base was huge. Eight long barracks were arranged in a horseshoe shape, with the main offices located in a smaller building at the center of the semicircle’s arch. That was where the Skull did his planning, joined by Faustus. She hadn’t yet seen any sign of Arnim Zola, or of Crossbones and Sin, but Sharon would not have been surprised if they were in there as well.
Sharon wasn’t invited into their confidences. She was a soldier like any other, albeit a high-ranking one. Instead, when she arrived at the base after her flight through the New York City sewer system, she was immediately put to work training the recruits in advanced hand-to-hand combat techniques. They were good soldiers - fit, strong, quick learners. But they were still only Kronas security guards, and they needed the kinds of skills that they hadn’t been given in their security training. Sharon lined them up in the center of the horseshoe and demonstrated techniques, making them practice with a partner. Some of the things she taught had been part of her SHIELD training, years ago. But some were things Steve himself had taught her. It was a fact that hadn’t gotten past the Skull.
“That is an interesting move you are teaching, Fraulein Carter,” he’d said, coming up behind her with a leather-gloved hand on her shoulder. “Vere haff I seen it before?”
Sharon had flinched. Her true mind, beneath the layers of guilt and manipulation, cried out for release. Cried out against the Skull’s subtle mockery of the best man she’d ever known. But the louder voice, a voice that was hers and Faustus’ all at once, was more persuasive. You killed him, Sharon. The least you can do is use his legacy to promote this worthy cause.
“It is a tactic of the enemy, Herr Skull,” Sharon replied, her voice submissive and monotone. “It will take them off-guard.”
The mask didn’t move, but Sharon could swear she saw him grin. “Very good, Fraulein. Very good.”
That night, when her mind was finally free, Sharon dreamt that someone would figure out what was happening. She’d never trusted Tony Stark as far as she could throw him, but some part of her hoped that he’d finally put the pieces together about SHIELD. He’d never been a stupid man, whatever his flaws. He’d find Fury; he’d contact Val. They’d work together, and they’d stop it. Or, perhaps Sam - Sam had to know something was going on, after she’d disappeared so suspiciously. Perhaps he could round up other heroes, find her, stop the Skull’s plan before it was too late.
And maybe, just maybe, Steve would return, too. Maybe he hadn’t died of blood loss, after all. Maybe his body had healed itself. Maybe he’d come back, and take down the Skull, and Sharon’s brain could release at least the tiniest bit of its crushing guilt.
But even the purest, safest corner of Sharon’s mind knew that was impossible.