Lady Liberty
Part III: Purity of Heart
Art in this chapter by Kathan D. McCallister
"CLANG!!!" went the hatch of the submarine. Inside, having just entered from a lonely beach, six brave souls descended a ladder: Lady Liberty, Roz Richards, Becky Barnes, Samantha Wilson, and Lady Liberty’s parents, Dakota Lincoln and John Bartholomew Lincoln.
One by one they dropped down from the ladder to the metal floor beneath, to find themselves in a very small enclosed space—though of course, in a submarine, all spaces are enclosed.
"So," said Lady Liberty to her friend Becky, "When were you planning to tell me you were the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"Right exactly when I did," came the reply. "In other words, when you needed to know. I’m sorry, Virginia, but Nick Fury kept secrets from Captain America, and I’ll be keeping secrets from you. I can’t help it. It’s part of my job."
"I knew, by the way," added Samantha.
Becky whirled on her. "You what--??"
"I knew."
"And you didn’t tell me--??" blurted Virginia.
"I’m a hacker, Virginia," answered Samantha. "I know lots of things I’m not supposed to know. And I’m not just any old hacker—I may be the best there is."
"If you hacked S.H.I.E.L.D., then you’re better than I thought anybody was," said Becky. "We need to talk, Samantha."
"I know. You’re going to offer me a job—and it’s going to be an offer I can’t refuse."
Roz Richards had to jump in. "Whoa! Samantha, you’re implying Becky would… threaten you?"
"Not physically," answered Samantha with a small smile. "She wouldn’t hurt me. Right, Becky?"
"I wouldn’t hurt you. I would never allow anyone to hurt you."
Dakota and John Bartholomew exchanged glances. What sort of people was their Virginia hooked up with?
Lady Liberty was beginning to wonder the same thing.
Just then, an interior hatch opened up, and a sailor-type with a retro mustache and big biceps waved them through… into the belly of the beast.
***
Back at the largest sports stadium on earth, recent scene of Lady Liberty’s daring rescue of her captured mother, the soldiers in Colonel Benedict’s command have just finished searching every square inch of the place, to no avail.
"Well, Captain? Where is Lady Liberty’s accursed mother?" barked Benedict, intimidating in his jet black uniform and his nearly palpable aura of disdain.
Captain Fischer stood at attention, with his men in rows behind him, three rows of five. The Captain said, dismally, "I don’t know, sir.
"You’re telling me she disappeared, Captain?"
"Sir, I’m telling you that I don’t know where she is or how she might have gotten there—wherever there might be."
"None of your men has a clue?"
"None, sir. Nor do I, sir."
"Captain, please line up your men single file, one behind the other, with you in front. I have something to give to each one of you."
"Yes, sir. Company G, a-ten-HUT! SINGLE FILE!"
It took five seconds to execute the instruction. The Colonel noted their efficiency, then swiftly drew his laser pistol and fired point blank at the Captain! The blast of deadly light burned a hole through Fischer’s chest, and the chest of the man behind him, and so on, and so on. Sixteen men fell down dead to the floor.
Colonel Benedict holstered his gun, then snapped his fingers. Another Captain, this one named Driscoll, ran briskly to where the Colonel was standing.
"Have this waste recycled for fertilizer," said Benedict. "Then search the city for Dakota Lincoln. Oh, and Captain…"
"Yes, sir?"
"Be sure to find her."
***
The sub’s exterior hatch popped open. Out into open air emerged Lady Liberty and all of her companions, one at a time, Becky first. Each stepped onto the hull of the sub, took a few steps and then made the modest leap onto a docking bay’s metal floor. The space they were in was large enough for fifty subs to dock, and there were nearly that many visible, exterior hatches and upper hulls above water, the rest submerged.
Becky led the way across the floor to an open interior hatch—it was as if they’d exited one submarine for another, gargantuan one.
"What is this place?" asked Virginia.
"HQ," answered Becky. "We call it Verne, in honor of Jules, because it’s 20,000 leagues under the sea."
"Holy--!" blurted Roz, impressed. "So why were you guys hiding in the sewers, then?"
"Because Becky wasn’t sure we needed to know about this place, right, O Great Director?" answered Samantha.
"Right," confirmed Becky. "You may have noticed I never told you the coordinates for how to get here."
"So when do we get to leave?" asked John Bartholomew, who wasn’t sure he liked the idea of all that water over his head.
"Dad…" replied Virginia, "I’m not sure if you or Mom ever can."
"WHAT--??" blurted Dakota. "We’re prisoners??"
"Calm down, Dakota," said John, "I don’t think she means that at all—do you, honey?"
It was Becky who answered. "Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll put it bluntly. You’re both wanted by the High General, the Colonels of Science, and all the Armed Forces of the Empire of the Americas. You can’t go back home. You might be safe in some other country, on some other continent, but you’d be all alone, strangers in a strange land. Here you’re among friends and protected by all the powers and resources of S.H.I.E.L.D. Please accept my invitation to make your new home here."
They all went through the interior hatch into a hallway. They kept walking, Becky in the lead.
***
"What is your excuse this time, Colonel?" asked High General Armstrong, in his yellow and black camouflage khakis, seated behind his limo-long desk.
"I offer none at all, High General," replied Benedict, at attention in front of the desk, still in his jet black uniform, but with his aura of disdain as muted as it ever got.
The High General slid open an oaken drawer at his right thigh, while saying, "Explanations, then? Revelations? Has Lady Liberty learned to dematerialize at will, perhaps?"
The High General reached into the open drawer as the Colonel replied, "I have nothing to report but failure, sir."
Stun blasts are invisible and inaudible, so it was almost as if Armstrong had pulled a child’s toy pistol out of the drawer and pointed it at Benedict, pulling the trigger with no result at all—except for the dropping of the Colonel to the floor.
Ten minutes later, when Benedict came to, he was prostrate on the office floor, his black shirt removed, his wrists manacled to the bottom portion of a tall, heavy steel post. Standing over him was Armstrong’s private secretary, Lieutenant Louis, an athletic, taciturn, brutal man. In his hands was a whip.
The Colonel could maneuver on the floor well enough to see what the Lieutenant held. "High General, you can’t be serious! You’re going to have me whipped? We’re not in ancient Rome, sir!"
"How little you know, Colonel. Begin, Lieutenant."
"Crack!" went the whip. Benedict writhed in pain.
"Again," said Armstrong. Louis obeyed. As Benedict recoiled and twisted and cursed aloud, he began visualizing the first of the grisly ways he might kill the High General.
"Again," said Armstrong. Louis obeyed. Benedict, trembling on the floor, visualized the second of the grisly ways he might kill the High General.
This repeated through ten strokes. Then Armstrong said, "Enough, Louis. Unshackle him, then you’re dismissed."
When the office was again populated by only Benedict and Armstrong, and the Colonel was standing unsteadily but unchained, the High General said to him, "The Empire of the Americas is in fact the new Rome, Benedict. I am its Caesar. And I know full well that you plan one day to be my Brutus. I merely follow the dictum, ‘Keep your enemies close at hand.’"
"May I be dismissed, sir?" asked the Colonel through jaw-clenching malice so fierce he imagined his body must burn red with it.
"Yes. Go. And fail me no more. I want Lady Liberty and I want her now."
Benedict turned and walked out of the office.
"Oh, how little you know, Colonel," said Armstrong quietly to nobody but himself.
***
Becky showed her visitors to their quarters aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. super-sub. She offered them a chance to freshen up and relax a bit before the obligatory grand tour of the facilities.
Samantha had her own small, Spartan room, complete with a modest desk and a lap-top. She wasn’t alone. Becky had followed her in.
"—so why don’t you just go ahead and show me?" finished Becky after a brief preamble.
"Okay. Sure. Why not?" was Sam’s snappy rejoinder, as she sat down at the desk and powered up the lap-top. "What do you want me to find out?"
"Break into my personal files. Tell me what my calendar looks like for the next week."
"Piece of cake."
Becky watched over Sam’s shoulder as the hacker went about her business. Command after command flashed across the screen. Windows opened, closed, opened. Passwords that couldn’t possibly be known, were nonchalantly typed in. Trap doors hidden by world class experts were casually triggered. Sam pulled a zip disk out of her shirt pocket, inserted it into the computer’s zip drive, uploaded an executable… and a dozen different bots were suddenly loose inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. fire wall, spidering hither and yon, doing their mistress’s bidding.
Becky watched spellbound.
"Your calendar is clear today and tomorrow," Sam finally said. "Almost as if you knew you’d be entertaining guests! After that, you’re off to Belgium—"
"—Okay, you’ve convinced me. You really do have the ability to hack S.H.I.E.L.D."
"So now what?"
"Well… would you like a job?"
"And if I say no? But let me see if I can guess. You’d ruin my reputation with the hacker community by leaking the fact that you know I hacked you. You’d conveniently leave out the fact that you know because I told you. No hacker is an island. We like to think of ourselves as lone wolves but there’s no getting around it: to be really effective, we need each other, because none of us has the whole picture. Each of us has only a piece. My piece is bigger than most but it’s still only partial. Everybody helps me willingly because they know I can help them more. Ruin my rep and they’ll stop helping. They’ll figure I’m too compromised now to be of any use."
"Diabolical! Who would ever think of such a Machiavellian scheme?"
"You would."
"Oh. Yeah. You’re probably right."
Becky smiled. And Sam, despite herself, smiled back.
"So what’s it going to be?" asked the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
"I want universal access. The very highest security clearance."
"Done."
"I want to report directly to you. No middle manager second-guessing me."
"Done."
"I want it understood that if Lady Liberty needs my help, she gets it. I drop whatever I’m doing and help her."
"Done. I anticipated all these conditions. They fit in quite well with my plans, in fact."
"Care to elaborate?"
"Of course not."
"Right. Silly me."
Both women smirked and snickered. Then they shook hands.
***
The immortal Quirinus was aware of mankind’s demonology. He knew that the upper echelon of hell was thought to be headed by several great devils, one of which was named "Beelzebub" and described as "Lord of the Flies." Quirinus enjoyed the irony as he buzzed about the meeting room in the guise of a fruit fly. Close inspection would have revealed that the hairs of his tiny body were golden, and, more amazingly, his head was not insectoid at all but lupine. But who inspects the flies?
At the very large conference table in the center of the room, the leaders of the great nation of China were in heated debate. The Premier was pounding his fist on the table. "We must not be timid!" he said loudly. "The Americans have spread themselves too thin. They are stretched beyond their limits by the need to occupy and govern two continents. As evidence, see how they cannot even capture a single woman! This so-called ‘Lady Liberty’ makes a mockery of them all. My friends," he said with emphasis and great seriousness, "The time to strike is now."
Quirinus smiled his wolfish grin. Ah, how good it was to be a god! He had merely to mingle among these mortals, unnoticed by their pitiful senses. He didn’t have to say a word or lift a golden finger. His presence was enough.
Another leader was speaking, nodding his head in agreement with the Premier. "What clowns they have demonstrated themselves to be! They make a great show of having captured the woman’s mother, and then next we know, they’re silent. No dramatic execution of mother or daughter. No climax at all to their story. Just silence. Clearly the woman out-maneuvered them yet again. They are weak! Weak and stupid! Let us vanquish them now and be free of their posturing forever!"
Such a meeting as this would not have happened a week ago. It had needed the push of the Roman god of conquest. Around the room the odd little wolf-fly buzzed.
"South America is ripe for the plucking!" said a third leader with fervor. "Central America, so over-ripe it is rotting on the vine! The season of harvesting is upon us. We must take to the fields with our sickles and reap the yield of our destiny!"
At that, all at the table left their chairs, rising swiftly to their feet, waving firsts in the air and saying "So be it!" or "It shall be so!" or, almost whispered in its passion, "For the glory of China!"
The wolf-fly laughed in its tiny throat. Nobody heard. Then it vanished. Nobody noticed. Somewhere in a space between spaces, Quirinus exulted, "Oh, how rare is purity of heart!
***
"How did my mother talk me into this?" thought Virginia Lincoln to herself, as she stood in one of the training rooms aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D. super-sub. Facing her were thirty hard-boiled agents, armed with hollow plastic "wiffle" bats! She was armed in turn, though not with her shield, but with a red, white, and blue Frisbee that mimicked in appearance Cap’s legendary weapon!
"It’s one of my prized possessions," Becky had told her. "Right before the Ultimatum was issued, Frisbee finally came out with their official Captain America pro model! People were telling them for years to come out with it. I don’t know why they took so long. Legal mumbo-jumbo, I’m sure. Any way, Sharon Carter was Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. at the time, and she bought one, then quickly stuck it in her desk drawer and presumably never looked at it again. It stayed in that drawer for a century and a half, each of her successors just leaving it where it was and letting it be. You’ll be the first person every to toss it, as far as I know."
"Yippee," thought Virginia sardonically to herself.
Lady Liberty might well have bowed out of this seemingly meaningless contest, but her mother had said to her, "Maybe you should do it, Virginia. Becky thinks it’s a good idea, and she is our hostess after all. It doesn’t pay for a guest to be rude."
Hostess! Guest! If Virginia didn’t know better, she’d swear her Mom thought all of this was some elaborate dinner party!
Becky had suggested the contest as a way of impressing her agents with clear proof of Lady Liberty’s abilities.
"Wasn’t our July 4th broadcast proof enough?" Virginia had asked.
"Nope," came Becky’s reply. "It could’ve been a computer simulation. There’s always that shadow of doubt. But after this little exercise in the training room is complete, you’ll have thirty agents swearing up and down they saw with their own eyes what you can do."
"Let’s just hope I win," thought Lady Liberty now, as a clock ticked off the seconds till the match would start. Ten, nine, eight, seven…"
At last the buzzer buzzed and the action was under way!
"Cap always said it was suicide to take a defensive stance against a squadron of soldiers," Samuel Wilson had written by hand, more than a century and a half ago, into a book that had been passed down from generation to generation in his family until finally Samantha had given it to Lady Liberty. "When numbers are badly against you, the only chance you have is offense."
Virginia ran like a tackler right for the agent in the center of the pack! Yet a split second before she collided with his swinging bat, she jumped straight up and tossed her Frisbee at the agent farthest to the right! She got enough height in her jump that the swing of the bat passed under her! Her legs scissored and tapped the swinger lightly on each temple.
"Any contact by an opponent puts the combatant out of the game. That’s the only rule," Becky had instructed them beforehand.
The patriotic Frisbee, spinning as rapidly as any buzz saw, bounced off the chest of the agent farthest to the right, and kept bouncing from chest to chest around the perimeter of the mass of agents! After striking four of them from right to left, it ricocheted over the center of them all!
Meanwhile, Lady Liberty had landed on the floor, and sprung like a panther past the defeated agent into the midst of five of his comrades! Coming down in a squat, she swatted the knees of one at her left and one at her right! Then she rocketed straight up and caught the Frisbee as it passed overhead! In mid-air she tossed it at the agent directly below and in front of her! It bounced off his chest, and rebounded off the chests of two others before shooting straight up! Lady Liberty met it in the air and with a single spin of her body, caught it and let it fly again!
Samuel Wilson had written, "Cap used to tell me my strategic value as a fighting partner had involved many things, but most important was that I’d always had a good way of getting the height advantage! First there was Redwing, that brave, beautiful bird, who would swoop down from on high and harry our enemies! Later, there were the wings I’d worn, which had enabled me to do my own harrying from on high!"
Around the perimeter the Frisbee again rebounded, from chest to chest, taking out another four agents, then shot straight up, but not over the center this time. Instead, it went straight up at the far left!
Meanwhile, Lady Liberty had come down from her leap onto the shoulders of an agent! Using her exquisite sense of balance to land lightly, so she wouldn’t hurt the fellow, she pushed off with both feet, sending him reeling into two of his comrades! Then Virginia did something amazing: she actually ran across the agents as if she were crossing a stream, dancing from shoulder to shoulder as you or I might dance from stone to stone to keep our feet dry! Step, step, step, step… four agents were disqualified by the touch of her boots! And then, having crossed to the far left, Lady Liberty caught her Frisbee in mid-air and once again let it fly!
And this was her most triumphant move. The agents had unwittingly aligned themselves in such a way as to permit an eleven-point ricochet! Bounce, bounce, bounce went the rapidly spinning Frisbee, rebounding from chest to chest—and then shooting at the wall to bounce again in a long arc over the mass of agents! Virginia rocketed high and snatched the Frisbee, coming casually down to earth, not bothering to throw again. Her opponents were defeated, all thirty.
"This match is over!" shouted Becky from the sidelines. "We have our winner! Let’s hear it for Lady Liberty!"
Despite themselves, the beaten agents applauded enthusiastically. They’d never seen such a display in their lives!
As soon as the clapping ended, Becky said loudly, with only a hint of a smile, "Okay, people, fun’s over! Get back to work, you goldbricks!"
The agents grinned. They all knew she was doing her Nick Fury impression. Nevertheless, they made a quick beeline for their stations. Becky was easy-going unless you were foolish enough to disregard a direct order. Then she ate you for breakfast.
The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was saying quietly to Virginia, "Come on, we have an emergency meeting with my top officers. One of our worst case scenarios is under way as we speak. China has declared war on the Americas!"
***
Roz Richards walked her new quarters end to end, which took her less than five seconds, as the quarters were small.
"It’ll do, I guess," she said to herself. Then she went invisible.
Out of her shirt pocket she brought forth a small gadget, which of course was invisible. She found the "on" switch with her thumb, and pressed down.
Roz, you see, had inherited her invisibility powers from the famous Sue Richards, but she’d also gotten something from Reed: she was a technological wizard! Even after seven generations, the genes ran true.
The gadget "unfolded"—that was the only word that came close to describing what it did, just keep in mind that what it did, was done in eight dimensions, not three—into a booth just large enough for Roz to enter and stand in. The booth, of course, was invisible, thanks to Roz’s power. She stepped inside. It sealed itself around her, completely soundproof.
"Sorry, Becky, but I’m betting you have cameras and microphones in our rooms. I like my privacy," Roz said quietly to nobody in particular. She didn’t have to be quiet, but it was instinctive.
Reaching forward with her hand, she pressed where she knew another button was. It clicked, though nobody outside the booth would have heard it. Roz waited. Finally, a voice reached her ears, bringing an invisible smile to her lips!
"Howdy, darlin’!" came out of a pair of speakers inside the booth. "Too bad we can’t have video. Say, you in danger? You don’t normally go invisible for our little chats!"
It was the voice of Willie Waylon Smith, proud Texan, leader of the Minute Men, a militia group that had risen up in defiance of the High General and his Empire of the Americas. They were using a wireless frequency that didn’t exist, that couldn’t exist, unless you viewed reality from a mathematical perspective only Roz understood. Her ancestor Reed would have beamed with pride.
"I’m safe, Willie. I’m just being cautious. I don’t like the way Becky holds all the cards. She seems decent, but I get the feeling she’ll do as she sees fit for the common good, whether anyone agrees with her or not. By the way, why didn’t you tell me she was the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.? And don’t try to tell me you didn’t know!"
"Well, darlin’, it’s like this," Willie replied, smooth as silk, "She asked me not to tell you, so I didn’t. I figured she had her reasons."
"Willie Waylon Smith!" blurted Roz, indignant, "I thought you and I were going steady! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t you think I have a right to know if one of my comrades is more than she appears? Whose side are you on?"
"I’m on America’s side, darlin’. Becky is too. We all are. Sometimes what’s best for America might stick in the craw of you or me. This is one of those times. Duty comes first. You knew that about me when I asked you to be my girl."
"Yes, I did," Roz admitted. "And I guess I shouldn’t complain. Women in glass houses and all that. I keep secrets from Becky so why shouldn’t she keep secrets from me?"
"You’re keeping our secret from everybody."
"Yeah. I guess I am. I’m just naturally private, I guess. Invisibility fits my personality. I hate people staring at me and examining my life!"
"More’s the pity, since starin’ at you is a pretty good way to spend the day!"
And so the conversation went, two lovebirds separated by circumstance, hoping that absence would make the heart grow fonder. When they had satiated their appetite for one another as best they could with mere words, they said good-bye and broke the connection. With a press of yet another button, which Roz groped for by memory, the booth folded up again, so that Roz held in her hand the gadget she’d pulled from her pocket originally. Back into the pocket it went.
She stayed invisible as she went about freshening up. Heck, why not?
***
"—It’s bad, Dad," Lady Liberty was saying to her father, John Bartholomew Lincoln, as they sat in her quarters, which were as small as everyone else’s. He sat in the chair by the desk. She sat cross-legged on the bed.
Virginia had just come out of the briefing session Becky had called. She was deeply disturbed.
"What’s the matter, honey?" asked her father. "I know it’s frightening to think of China and the Americas at war… but I get the feeling there’s more to it than that for you."
"Look at it this way, Dad. The High General and his Armed Forces are my enemies. Sounds simple, right? But they’re American soldiers, Dad, and they’re the only ones we’ve got! If China beats them, China conquers the Americas! That’s pretty darn bad, right? But if the High General beats China, he’ll expand his empire into Asia! That’s bad too! Both outcomes are worst case! Whoever wins, the Americas lose!"
"I see your point."
"But there’s more! What role should Lady Liberty play? If I use this opportunity to strike at the High General, I'm attacking the only defenders our continents have! Not only would I be helping China, but I’d be compromising the symbolism of who I’m supposed to be! On the other hand, if I join forces with the High General to defend our land, I hand him the power of my symbolism on a silver platter! He can spin my alliance with him in a dozen different ways, and every one of them compromises who I’m supposed to be! Yet if I do nothing, if I sit out the war, I give the appearance of being a coward, of refusing to defend the Americas I supposedly represent! Once again: symbolism compromised!"
"Wow… now that you put it like that… wow…"
"Yeah. Wow. I’m between a rock and a hard place. It’s almost like somebody planned it this way!"
John Bartholomew Lincoln sat silent for a moment. Then: "So what are you going to do?"
"I don’t know, Dad. I’m stumped."
"Well… that makes two of us. But I have faith in you. If there’s a solution to this mess, you’ll find it."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know who you are. You didn’t become Lady Liberty when you stole that shield from the government museum. You’ve been Lady Liberty all your life. There’s something about you… I don’t know the word for it. You’re different from other people. Better, somehow. I can’t explain it."
"Better--? Come on, Dad, try to explain. I think it’s something I need to hear."
"Better inside. Better outside than most people, sure, but better inside than everybody. I can’t explain it. But it’s true."
"You sure you’re not prejudiced?" asked his daughter with a smile.
"Oh, heck, of course I’m prejudiced! But I’ve been your father a long time, honey. I know the difference between loving you with all my heart and judging you objectively. A father has to do both."
"You were always a great dad."
They sat in silence. Eventually, her father stood up, gave her a little kiss on her forehead, squeezed her shoulder, and left her to her thoughts, closing the door behind him as he exited out to the hall.
Alone in her room, Virginia whispered four desperate words. "Steve Rogers… help me."
***
An hour later, Virginia was asleep in her bed. Her quarters were dark. She slept fitfully, tossing and turning, wrestling with demons only she could see.
Suddenly, something worse than a demon was with her in the room!
"I see my plan is already bearing fruit," said Quirinus to her unhearing ears. No cameras or microphones would record him, for he was a god, and he didn’t wish to be recorded.
Virginia continued to dream, oblivious to her danger! The immortal stood at her bedside. He loomed over her in all of his nine-foot majesty, his lupine snout sniffing the fragrance of the blood pumping in her veins. With one slash of his golden-furred hands, he could end her life! Or he could spirit her away to some space between the spaces and leave her there forever!
He did neither of those things. He did something potentially far worse. He stood there.
On the bed, Lady Liberty thrashed about. In her dream, she was wrestling the High General for control of some doomsday device he’d threatened to unleash! But then, inexplicably and without warning, she was seated on a bucolic hillside, all alone. She sat on the grass and basked in the warm sunlight. Freed of any need for logic, her dreaming mind accepted the peace and quiet without question.
Suddenly she was faced with a nine-foot, golden-furred, wolf-headed man!
It wasn’t the real Quirinus. He wasn’t the god of dreams and didn’t have the power to enter them. Nor was he even aware of what Virginia was seeing. He merely stood by her bedside, allowing his influence to be felt. That was all he’d ever needed to do, in all his millennia of existence. Only one thing had ever thwarted him.
Back in the dream, the Quirinus simulacrum raised his hands above his head and spoke an incantation! Virginia, in her dream, began to grow golden fur on her limbs. Her face started to stretch and contort itself into a snout. Soon she would be remade in the image of Quirinus! That was what he wanted, though of course it wasn’t her body he cared about. It was her soul! But dreams tend to objectify abstractions. Her teeth lengthened.
Out of nowhere flew a metal disk of red, white, and blue! It smashed into the face of the Quirinus simulacrum, knocking him backwards, halting his incantation!
In its rebound, the shield returned to the hand of the one who’d thrown it. Directly between the simulacrum and the half-mutated image of Virginia, the one and only Captain America stood tall, eyes hard and grim, jaw clenched in righteous anger. Behind him, the image of Virginia was already a little more human looking than a moment ago, the face less of a snout, the golden fur covering less of the body.
Ferocious and ravenous, the Quirinus simulacrum launched itself at the star-spangled Avenger! With a swing of the legendary shield, the beast was rebuffed.
With a roar, the beast attacked anew, having grown a dozen clawed arms as long as telephone poles! It pummeled Cap from every direction, more rapidly than any machine gun had ever sprayed its fire. Yet the shield flashed all about its master far too quickly for the eye to follow, and every furious jab was rebuffed.
The image of Virginia had lost its snout, though some golden fur remained.
And then, without warning, the Captain America that walked this dream grew a hundred times taller than he’d been—and his face… his face was no longer that of Steve Rogers.
He wore the face of John Bartholomew Lincoln.
At that, the Quirinus simulacrum seemed finally to learn fear, turning away and running for its life!
The image of Virginia was again true to its proper form. And when she looked up into the face of her hero, she saw not the face of her father, nor even the face of Steve Rogers… but another face, too wonderful and too awesome to name.
Outside the dream, in the real world of Virginia’s room, she lay still asleep, soundly and peacefully at last, a beatific smile on her face. She would not remember this dream, but that didn’t matter, for something greater than her dream would remember her.
The real Quirinus scowled and sneered, growled and bared his teeth, for he knew that the one thing that had ever thwarted him, had thwarted him anew.
He vanished.
Leaning against the wall nearest the bed, a metal disk was the only witness to these events, and it had no voice with which to speak of them… though voice it did have, of a different sort, and speak it would, on the twin topics of liberty and justice, in the language its wielder well knew. And what it said, would be heard.
But first, there would be horror and things dreadful.
- Next: World War 3 Begins -
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