CAPTAIN AMERICA CREATED BY JOE SIMON AND JACK KIRBY

#487

Written by Jeff Melton

august, year 3

There is a narrow strip of land along the coast. It is bordered on the east by the Atlantic Ocean, on the north by a channel feeding into the Atlantic, and on the west and south by a wide river, which is brackish on its southern tip, as it empties into the Atlantic, and the fresh and salt water mixes together, producing a variety of aquatic life and off-colored water.

On the southern tip of the island is a dense forest, comprised of tall pines and oak trees of various sizes and ages. There are still trees that were torn asunder, ripped in half and uprooted, when the latest hurricane came through the area last summer, creating a path of destruction that has only recently allowed for rebirth to begin in some areas.

The tidal waters are coming in on the southern and western ends of the island, as the brownish water moves forward through the marsh, claiming the land once again in its daily cyclical pattern. It is well into the night, and darkness covers the island with a shroud of stillness and quiet, save for the chirping of crickets, and the occasional movements of alligators, snakes, and other wildlife.

Suddenly, two strings of lights literally pop up from the ground, revealing a narrow clay path, illuminated by the light. The clay is reddish-orange in color, and there are signs that it has been used for this purpose before, signs of small airplane tires showing up in various points on the hardened clay.

A low-pitched hum can be heard in the night, as a small passenger plane approaches the runway. As it does, the once-quiet southern side of the island comes alive with movement. Two small wooden boats are pushed ashore, as three men in each boat rush onto the island, heading for the plane, which has now touched down and is applying its breaks, preparing to stop on the small makeshift landing strip.

A passenger on the plane quickly opens the door as he has done on numerous occasions. His movements are swift, as he tosses out two large bags onto the side of the landing strip, even as the plane turns, reading to take to the air once more.

However, a movement so sudden that it goes unnoticed sends a metallic object flying through the air, striking the engine of the small plane. Sparks fly from the engine, which has been crushed by the flying projectile, completely disabling it in a split-second, as the metallic, cylindrical object shoots back into the woods from whence it came, as though a human mind was behind its movements.

And, indeed, as the crescent moon finds its way through the clouds for a brief moment, an outstretched hand reaches out and grabs the object, revealed now to be a familiar shield. The red-gloved hand belongs to CAPTAIN AMERICA!

Moving with cat-like agility, Captain America surges forward. One of the bags is picked up by two men, as another looks on, anxious. His eyes grow larger when he sees the familiar red, white, and blue costume...just seconds before Cap’s shield strikes him in the chin, jerking his head back, and sending him to the ground, unconscious.

“Huh?” one of the two holding the bag utters, looking up just as the thug falls to the ground with a “thud!” He looks at the falling watch guard, surprised to see him falling to the floor. “What was that sound!?” he asks nervously, as his partner turns over, looking at him, annoyed that he is no longer getting help in lifting the large bag from the ground. “And what the G½ƒ& happened to Lenny??!”

“What are you talkin’...?” the other thug asks, turning his eyes back to his partner, just in time to see a streak of movement that suddenly separates the two of them. Before he knows what has happened, he has been hit twice—once in the mid-section and once in the jaw. The next thing he is aware of is consciousness slowly fading away. He sees a red-and-white striped back in front of him before his eyes close.

A little further down the runway, two thugs hold onto the other bag, as a third rushing alongside them, brandishing a handgun, and looking nervously from side to side. He hears the sounds from the conflict moments before, and turns to see what has caused the sounds. He turns his head just in time to see a shield flying through the air a split-second before it strikes him between the eyes. His legs give way immediately, and he falls to the ground in an unconscious heap.

The remaining thugs turn to see two fists slamming into their respective faces with lightning-fast speed and a strength that is almost super-human. Before they realize what has happened, a kick to the face downs one thug, and a quick turn-around blow by a shield-covered arm directly to the bridge of the nose has down the second one.

Suddenly, shots ring out in the night, but Cap moves quickly, blocking the bullets with his shield, creating sparks as the bullets strike the shield, before ricocheting harmlessly onto the clay, grass, and water in the distance. In and around the water, the creatures move quickly to avoid being struck by the erratic gunfire.

The passenger on the plane has emerged from the plane, as the pilot looks at the smoking engine, working desperately to find a way to make it work long enough to get him back into the air—and away from Captain America.

Cap releases his shield, leaping over the next hail of bullets, as the shield flies over the thug’s head. The thug smiles, and continues to fire at Cap, who tucks and rolls away from the continued fire. Suddenly, the shield curves back around, striking the thug on the back of his legs, behind his knees. His weapons points directly in the air as the hard impact takes him off his feet, landing him in the rocks and hard clay at the edge of the runway.

The thug lies on his stomach, reaching across for the gun, barely out of reach. Cap’s boot slams down on the gun. As the thug looks up, Cap looks down sternly, shaking his head. The thug never sees the kick to the face coming, and doesn’t remember anything else until he woke up in jail with a headache and some bruises on the back of his legs.

Cap walks up slowly to the pilot, who turns around, visibly frightened by the sight of Captain America standing in front of him. He lifts his wrench to swing it at Cap. To Cap, though, his movements appear to be in slow motion. Cap easily sidesteps the attempted assault and swings his bent arm upwards, striking the pilot in the chin with his elbow. The pilot’s head flies back, slamming into the bottom of the plane’s wing, knocking him unconscious.

Cap is leaning over the final unconscious thug, tying his hands behind his back, as strobe lights flash across the island, moving from one end of the island to another, intersecting at certain points. Soon, SBI agents rush onto the island, brandishing guns as they start capturing the thugs and securing the area.

“Thanks for the help,” a single agent, dressed in a business suit, brandishing a .45 in a shoulder strap, as he walks up to Captain America, who is getting to his feet. Cap looks up at him, and nods slightly. “We’ve been trying to shut down this drug ring for months now, but couldn’t get close enough.”

“I’m glad to help, Simon, ” Cap says, brushing the dirt from his knees. “But this is just a shipment. It doesn’t do anything with the supplier.”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself,” Agent Simon responds. Simon is a tall, lanky man in his mid-40’s with dark brown hair. His accent suggests that he was born and raised in the streets of Brooklyn. He adjusts his tie several times, and it’s clear to Cap that he’d rather not have to wear one. “This is a major shipment, and we’ve been looking to get some info on the big wig for a long time. This’ll give us that chance.”

“Do you have any idea who your target may be?” Cap asks, adjusting his shield strap.

“There is a connection down in Miami,” Agent Simon replies. “We’ve been working with the local authorities there, but they’re don’t have any more manpower than we do.” He shakes his head, annoyed. “And, like the rest of the drug runners, this guy has managed to cover his tracks pretty well. There isn’t enough to arrest him.”

Cap nods his head in understanding, thinking back to the time he was a police officer, and realizing that little has changed since that time.

Agent Simon hands over a photo, which shows a palatial mansion overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. “His name’s Hector Garzon,” Agent Simon continues, giving Cap another picture, this one of a middle-aged man of Hispanic origin with dark hair turning gray. “Born and raised in Chicago, he went to Miami several years ago...and has amassed a fortune since that time. According to his tax records, his money supposedly is coming from a ridiculously lucrative garment business. Still, we haven’t been able to pin this on him. Even the IRS hasn’t been able to get him for anything—and you know how ruthless those J@$+@hF$ are!” Looking at Cap for a moment, he notices Cap’s discomfort with the language he used. Despite himself, he feels the need to apologize. “Er, sorry, Cap.”

Cap nods, but says nothing more about it. “It looks like I’ll be heading to Miami then,” Cap comments. This draws a smile from Agent Simon, who is relieved to have Captain America’s help with a case that has given them no end to trouble.

INTERLUDE

In a small apartment, a young woman runs water in the sink, soaking a washcloth nervously. She quickly rings it out by twisting it, allowing the excess water to drain into the sink. She then walks over to her dining room table, where a large, bulky man waits for her. She faces him, and puts the washcloth on his face, and along his arms. He is seen from the back, sitting at the table facing her.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says, watching her.

“You got injured in the fight,” she says softly, as she continues to administer to him. “The least I can do is clean you up a bit.”

“There are just a couple of scrapes and cuts,” he replies, shaking his head. “Nothing serious.”

“I think it’s more than that,” she responds, as she pulls his head forward, looking through his blond hair for signs of additional injury. “You mentioned that you didn’t know who you are.* That sounds like amnesia. Do you remember getting hit on the head?”

[*See last issue.]

“No, but then, I don’t remember much of anything,” the man replies. “I just remember being...cold.”

“Cold?” she asks, shaking her head, as she draws back away from his slightly. “But that doesn’t make any sense. It’s the middle of summer. Come to think of it, you were wearing a jacket when I first saw you. You gave it to me when those thugs cut up my blouse.” As she says this, her face goes flush. “Thanks again for that.”

“It’s no problem,” he replies. “I...” His voice trails off, however, as his body starts to involuntarily shiver and shake, as if he had a sudden chill. His teeth begin to rattle, despite his efforts to put a stop to it. Concerned, the young lady rushes into another room and returns with a throw blanket, which she uses to cover up the man. She holds it up against his body for several moments, until the chill passes.

“Are you all right?” she asks, looking at him with concern etched on her face. She runs her hand across his forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever, but that was a nasty chill.”

“It’s not as severe as the others,” he manages. “I think I’ll be all right.” With that, he gets to his feet, as the blanket falls to the floor. The young woman watches him cautiously. She starts to lean over to pick up the blanket, but he notices this and leans over himself.

“No,” he says, leaning down to pick up the blanket. “I’ll get it.” As he does so, however, his face starts to grow faint. His skin becomes clammy, and his eyes roll back into his head, as he falls to the ground, unconscious.

“Hey!” she exclaims, kneeling down towards him. He is turned on his side, his breathing shallow. As she turns his head towards her, it is a very familiar face...the one that belongs to Steve Rogers! “Are you all right?!” She grows more nervous, as she tries to shake her benefactor awake, but realizes that she can’t.

END OF INTERLUDE

INTERLUDE II

In a secret laboratory, Arnim Zola works feverishly. His hands runs across a keyboard, as he looks down at the contents of a cell sample he has under a microscope. As he looks into the microscope, a smile crosses his misshapen face.

“I think I have done it!” he says. He pours a transparent liquid onto the cell sample, and watches again in the microscope, to determine if the cell reacts the way he intends for it to. Soon, he throws his head back and the laboratory is filled with his sinister laughter.

Removing the cell from under the microscope, he places it into a large flask, filled with a semi-transparent liquid. “Now, all that is required of you is to grow, “ he says to the small cell. “But, I must now report my findings to my...guest.”

Walking down the hallway, Zola stops at a familiar door, opening it. There, laid out on a table, is Nomad. His arms are secured to the table with energy-draining metal restraints. He looks up at Zola through groggy eyes. Although Zola keeps him chained to the table with energy-draining restraints, he has taken no chances, and has kept him drugged as well.

“What do you want, Zola?” Nomad asks. He hears his voice, and it doesn’t sound right to him, but he is having trouble focusing on the figure of Zola, who seems to change shapes on him. He hates the feeling of being drugged, or not being in control of his own body...and he hates the way Zola enjoys seeing him like this. “Have you come to gloat again?”

“I realize that you are intellectually inferior,” Zola comments, as he walks up to Nomad, looking down on his prisoner. “However, I am sure that even you can grasp the significance of what I have accomplished.”

“Did you build the perfect mouse trap?” Nomad asks. “Well, go market it, and leave me alone.”

“Such a trivial pursuit for a menial mind,” Zola returns. “But, no matter. I would like you to know that your cell structure has finally be cloned.”

“That’s what you said before,” Nomad replies. “And look what happened to him.”

“Yes, he went insane, acting completely unlike you. First, he grew more violent, grew longer hair, changed his costume,* developed an adversarial relationship with Captain America**...none of these things were particularly bad in and of themselves, but they did not fit into my plan for him, and they might well have brought suspicion upon him for his out of character conduct. Carrying a young infant on his back while in combat was when I realized how serious was his digression into insanity.*** Soon, he even became a villain, fighting the Champions.”**** Zola replies.

[*In Captain America Annual #9 (1990)]

[**Nomad #1 (Nov, 1990).]

[***Starting in Nomad #3.]

[****In Champions #25-27.]

“Not exactly a prize success story, was he?” Nomad taunts. Although his head is spinning, he is trying to stay focused on the conversation. He enjoys any verbal advantage he can have on Zola, however temporary.

“Indeed not,” Zola replies. “His insanity became so severe that he eventually perished. However, I was able to test the DNA problems and determine what happened with him so that I could isolate the problem and improve on my cloning pattern.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Nomad thinks to himself. He fights to stay awake, even though he finds his eyes closing involuntarily. He needs to know more about Zola’s plans if he hopes to break free, and put an end to them.

“I have isolated the problem, and have corrected it,” Zola continues. “I will not complicate things for you by explaining genetic terms of which you have no ability to comprehend. Suffice it to say that you will soon have a twin...a perfect duplicate.”

“But...why?” Nomad asks.

“Do not be modest,” Zola replies. “After all, scientists have been attempting to duplicate the so-called ‘super soldier serum’ that transformed Captain America into the warrior he is. I realize that you and your mentor, the second Captain America, have that serum in your veins. I would have preferred to test you prior to the second shot, which stabilized your mind. It is my belief that the same shot that stabilized your mind, restoring your sanity after years of hostility and violence, also prevented your body from achieving virtually unlimited strength. That is a theory I must test to its fullest extent.”

“You don’t...” Nomad starts, but is having difficulty speaking. He can feel himself blacking out once again, as a result of the drugs. He doesn’t even know if Zola heard what he tried to say.

“And, when I have tested the potential of the super soldier serum...” Zola starts. Then, noticing that Nomad is unconscious again, he curses under his breath. “It seems that the drugs are too strong. I wanted him to at least discover how useful he will be to my plans. Ah, no matter,” Zola says, walking away from Nomad, heading back to his lab. “I have much work to do before my plans reach fruition...and Nomad’s usefulness to me is finally at an end.”

END OF INTERLUDE

Night has fallen on the streets of Miami, and the security guards are changing shifts at Garzon Garments. The guard station is located at the front of the building, approximately 200 yards to the north of the entrance. It is surrounded on all sides by an electrified fence that completely encircles the 33,000-foot factory building.

“Glad to see you, Joe,” the guard at the guard station says, as his relief walks towards the guard station.

“A quiet night, Carlos?” Joe asks, as he straightens his tie, and leans his hand against the door to the guard station.

“Very,” Carlos replies, walking out of the guard station. “But, it’s all yours now. I just hope you’ve brought something to keep you awake.”

“Ha!” Joe replies. “That’s always the hardest part of our job. No one ever tries to break in here...and why should they?”

“Uh, yeah,” Carlos replies. He realizes that Joe really doesn’t know very much about this place, but decides it’s best if it remains that way. “Well, have a good night, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow evening. Same time, same channel.” He smiles as he walks off, thinking about the dinner he knows his wife will have on the table for him when he gets home. His face lights up when he thinks about the way his daughter will throw her arms around his neck and give him a hug when he walks in the door. “Yeah, it’s worth it,” he thinks to himself, walking towards his car.

A slight “thud” is heard from the direction of the roof. Carlos shines his flashlight on the roof, scanning to determine what caused the sound, but sees nothing.

“What’s the matter, buddy?” Joe calls out from the guard station.

“Nothing, Joe,” Carlos replies, tossing his flashlight into the passenger seat, and turning back to the other security guard. “Just my nerves. These shifts sometimes make you want to hear something to break the boredom!”

“Ha!” Joe laughs. “Be careful what you ask for. And, give you daughter a hug for me when you get home.”

“If there are any left,” Carlos replies with a smile, as he waves goodbye to his friend, and drives out of the gate.

On the roof of the building, Captain America moves gracefully, coming to a trap door leading to a service entrance on the roof. He pulls it open. “Agent Simon was very thorough,” Cap thinks to himself. “The shifts changed at precisely 8:15, and I was able to sneak in while their eyes were away from the monitors. Now, I just need to get inside and find out where their drug operation is.”

Across the building, a lighter lights a cigarette. The moon shines down on boots that appear metallic as cold eyes watch Captain America enter the service entrance. “It has been a long time since we last fought,” the man thinks, as he moves towards the entrance even as Cap disappears beneath the roof. “But I can think of no one better to test my skills against after so long an absence. Prepare to die, my patriotic friend.”

Next issue: Who is this mysterious figure? What are Zola’s plans for Nomad...and how do they involve Captain America? And just who is this Cap look-alike, and what’s the matter with him? Find out at least some of the answers to these questions in the action-packed Captain America #488. Miss it not!

___________________________________________________________________________

êêêêLETTERS TO THE LIVING LEGENDêêêê

This is my third issue into writing the star-spangled Avenger, and let me say that I am having a great time telling his stories Cap has always had a high place in my list of favorite characters, with his history, his leadership status, and his incredible ability to overcome great odds.

While I started the title by introducing the readers to a horror element that has been long-absent in Cap’s stories, rest assured that more traditional adversaries are in store for the living legend of World War II. As always, comments are welcome at jx2melton@hotmail.com . Comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated.

CAPTAIN AMERICA #486 ("Jolly" Jeff Melton)

The Good:
--I like this look at the action-hero Cap (surprised? : )  ).  Hardly a mention of his iconic status or his Avengers membership or anything like that.  Just Cap on a mission.  There aren't enough Cap stories like this out there.
--The Villain.  In the Phantom (of the Opera), Jeff's offered a villain who we don't mind seeing beaten senseless and worse!
--The last sequence was a dream for an action lover like me!

The Bad:
--Not much, really, but the scene where Cap is escaping from the pit is a bit long and he escapes too easily.

The Roos:
--4 out of 5 Roos.  Good job, Jeff!

Sam Everett

I’m glad you enjoyed the story, Sam. I enjoyed telling this story. It was a tribute to the Universal Movies I loved as a kid (and still do), as well as a tribute to that style of Simon & Kirby Cap stories. Sorry the pit sequence didn’t work for you, but hopefully, there was enough action later in the story to make up for it. Thanks for the great review, Sam.

Well, that’s it for this time around. I hope everyone is enjoying the current storyline. Be here next issue for more surprises and plenty of action, as Cap goes against a long-forgotten villain! You don’t want to miss this one!