#488

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: Captain America, working with Agent Simon, broke up a drug shipment, which was part of a much larger operation working out of Miami. Cap offered to help Agent Simon break the drug ring at its source, and was flown to Miami, and an inconspicuous factory that is actually the center of the drug ring. And now, after gaining access to the factory, he is being watched from a neighboring rooftop by a mysterious figure...

Captain America leans down, disappearing into a trap door on the roof of the main factory building. "I need to get to the drug operation and put it out of business," Cap thinks to himself, as he lands on the ground 12 feet below the trap door, with the grace of a cat. He quickly looks around, finding a moving security camera, which is starting to turn his way.

"I can’t have that!" Cap says, throwing his shield at the camera, shattering it, as the lens falls and cracks on the concrete floor, followed soon afterwards by a mass of circuitry and electronic parts from the front half of the camera that was severed from Cap’s quick strike. Cap’s reaches out his arm, without looking, and grabs his shield out of the air as if it was waiting there for him.

"From what Simon told me." Cap silently considers, "the drug operation is about 100 feet down this corridor. He wasn’t sure about the accuracy of that information, but he’s been spot-on about everything else he’s told me." So saying, Cap sprints down the hall quickly, not wanting to waste any time in achieving his objective.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop above, a figure lands near the trapdoor that Cap entered mere moments earlier, leaping the distance between the building he had been on earlier with three powerful leaps. He looks down the trap door, nodding his head. "Yes, after so long in recovery, it will be good to test my skills again," he thinks to himself.

He quickly leaps down below, landing where Cap had landed moments before. As he does so, the light of the hallway catches him, revealing him to be...the TARANTULA! He quickly looks across the room, surveying the situation. Walking over to the shattered camera, he lets a smile cross his face, as he kneels down to pick up the pieces.

"Ah, how good of the Captain to give me such a nice trail to follow," he thinks to himself. "I had thought this assignment of guarding this ‘factory’ would provide me with the opportunity to recuperate from that...incident where I was nearly killed after being turned into a giant spider by those fools that promised me great power."* As he thinks back to those dark days, his eyes grow larger and more intense with rage, and his face grows flush as his rage intensifies as the mere thought. "I was thought dead, even buried in the ground. But, although the power they promised did not give me the power they thought, rather turning me into a giant spider, still it was that very process that allowed me to survive. Like Spider-Man, I had been given a remarkable healing process, but even greater. Even though my monstrous spider body was riddled with bullets, I survived…and crawled out of the Earth, finding that the process had worn off. It took months for my old body to heal, but it did heal, and it is not back to where it was before."

Nomad awakens with a stir. His body is wet with perspiration, and he feels a pain in his right arm. Looking down, he sees that his arm is bandaged, and there are small traces of blood in the center of the white gauze.

"It looks like Zola’s been doing some more experimenting," Nomad silently considers, as he shakes his head more fully awake, "or I’m still asleep and don’t realize it yet."

"Ah," Zola comments, walking into the room. Nomad turns as best he can, until his neck aches at the angle. He twists it back, with a "pop" as Zola continues to walk into the room, where he is standing directly over Nomad. "It would seem that my guest has awakened again."

"Yes, I have," Nomad replies weakly, his voice still weak and his body still groggy and fatigued. "And it looks like you’ve been at work while I was out," he says, looking down at his gauzed arm.

"Indeed I was," Zola replies. His large head expands and contracts around its sides, as something vaguely resembling a smile crosses his hideous face. "In fact, that is why I have come."

"You mean this isn’t a social call?" Nomad manages, a slight smile making its way to his face, as he looks up towards Zola.

Zola merely shakes his head, immune to Nomad’s attempt at levity. "I wanted to let you know that you have been quite helpful in my experiment," he explains. "Of Course, my results have not been finalized, but that is a mere formality. I am certain, after seeing the results of the cell sample that I took from your prone form, that my hypothesis was quite correct."

"You’ll have to forgive me," Nomad comments, his head still spinning, even as he attempts to ground himself, "if I don’t remember exactly what your theory was. For some reason, I haven’t been able to stay awake long enough to do a whole lot of thinking." Nomad hopes that his sarcasm was evident in his reply, but he can’t be sure. His voice sounds—to him anyway—very strange at the moment.

"Yes, I am certain," Zola replies, his face contorting into something resembling a sinister smile, but with such a hideous quality that there can be no true happiness hidden beneath. "As I was mentioning earlier, something will be done about that. I do not want you to be unable to appreciate my breakthrough."

"I still don’t understand why you want to duplicate me," Nomad manages, seriousness evident in my voice. "I haven’t exactly set the world on fire with my accomplishments."

"Your modesty ill becomes you," Zola replies. "However, it is hardly something so insignificant as your personality that concerns me. As you know, your strength is greater than even that of Captain America, who received the earlier version of the serum."

"Yeah," Nomad replies, feeling his head clear up as the drugs start to wear off, his body fighting hard against their effects. "We’ve been through all of that."

"Yes, we have," Zola replies coldly. "But, I thought you would realize that the next logical step to be taken would be to create a legion of beings with the serum...an uncut version."

"Have you lost your mind?!" Nomad asks, trying to rise to sit up against the cot he is on, but reminded in his weakened state that the bonds are indeed still holding. "The uncut version makes you insane. I can attest to that—and so can my former partner. We were both effected by it—and my partner was a good man before the serum did what it did to him."

"While it might be desirable to have the serum effect the minds of my drones," Zola counters, "I do not have any strong desire to have the more unpredictable elements of the insanity induced by the serum. That is why I have isolated the component that induces insanity. Certainly, I could give them the second shot, as you got.* However, that would work counter my plan of determining just how much the serum will increase the strength of my test subjects—unencumbered by the weakening effect of the second dose. Therefore, while my drones will be sufficiently pliable, they will not go insane. I believe I have eliminated that problem."

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Meanwhile, Captain America stands in a doorway, the door thrown back and the locks have been broken, and are hanging loosely by the splintered side of the door where they were once fastened. As Cap looks into the door, he sees, in a large area beneath his location, which has a small deck, with stairs leading down to the main sub-floor, that the workers preparing the drugs for shipment, are also preparing firearms and complex machinery. He moves forward to the edge of the deck, which is bordered by a railing made of 2x4 lumber. He instantly recognizes their uniforms...

"AIM!" he exclaims, even as the agents look up. Some of them didn’t hear the door being kicked in a moment earlier, but most are looking up with surprise. Some are preparing to draw weapons on Cap, and others are looking on, dumbfounded. "This is all an AIM splinter group?!"

Standing in the shadows behind Captain America is the Tarantula. He is watching as Cap slowly enters the doorway, but from his perspective, he cannot see into the room that Cap is slowly entering. "I will never get a better opportunity to strike my opponent," he silently considers, moving forward slowly and gracefully, his spiked boots glittering as they are met with the dim light of the corridor.

Tarantula moves forward, leaping at Captain America, who instinctively turns at the sound, raising his shield to block his opponent’s intended strike. However, the momentum from the Tarantula’s flying kick sends them both through the 2x4 railing, plummeting towards the subfloor beneath them. They crash hard into a series of cardboard boxes, even as the AIM agents scatter around them, getting out of their way.

Cap is the first to emerge from a series of boxes, his legs covered with a white powdery substance. He instinctively tries to brush it off, but quickly has to duck as many more boxes are flung his way. "I didn’t even get a good look at my assailant!" Cap thinks to himself, even as he ducks, raising his shield to help block the incoming boxes. As they strike his shield, however, the cocaine hits the floor and his shield, the plastic bags breaking and creating a cocaine dust cloud that fills the room and causes Cap to cough involuntarily. "Fortunately, the serum protects me from drugs, but <cough> it doesn’t make it any easier to breath...or to see!"

"It is most fortunate that we landed in the boxes containing drugs, would you not agree?" Tarantula comments, walking through the smoke cloud. Cap can hear him, but can only make out the outline of his form through his watering eyes. "I never cared for drugs, although they have helped supplement my income at times," he adds, walking through the cloud towards Cap. "But, a fortunate side-effect of my transformation was immunity to its effects."

"Who are you?" Cap asks. "His voice is familiar," Cap thinks, "but I can’t place it."

"Have you so soon forgotten me, Captain?" he asks. "It has been some time since we last fought, but surely not that long?"*

"Tarantula?!" Cap asks, surprised by the sight of the Tarantula. "But the last I heard you were dead...replaced by another Tarantula!"**

"Yes, Tarantula exclaims with disgust. "I have heard about my imitator. Rest assured, my amigo, that I will punish him appropriately for stealing my name while I was recuperating. That is, in fact, something I have been very much looking forward to doing."

Tarantula sends out a sweeping kick that Cap barely avoids by stepping back. He is still having difficulty seeing, and the spiked boot rips through his chain mail costume, ripping a hold along his right side, tearing a large section out of the vertical stripes in his costume.. "But you need not worry yourself about that, my friend," Tarantula snaps sharply. "There are far more pressing concerns for you!"

"You surprise me, Tarantula," Cap remarks, blocking the next kick with his shield, and carrying his momentum forward to drive Tarantula off-balance. "I would think that you’d be in on a bigger operation coming back from the grave."

"You obviously do not realize just how large this operation is," Tarantula counters, but he has to grab some boxes to catch his fall. "You came here thinking this a mere drug ring, did you not?"

"So, they knew I was coming," Cap thinks to himself, as he blocks another of Tarantula’s kicks with his forearm. "AIM’s mad schemes are never too large, Tarantula. You’ve been around long enough to know that. But then, you’ve never really been a part of anything too big either...have you?"

"I will show you just how wrong you are!" Tarantula exclaims, leaping towards Cap, who puts up his shield defensively.

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In Harlem, the faux Steve Rogers awakens in a dimly-lit bedroom. He notices that he is covered up in two blankets and two heavy comforters. As he slowly rises into a sitting position, the door to the bedroom creaks open.

"I see you finally woke up," his benefactor comes into the room, carrying a plate of toast, with eggs on the side. Her blond hair falls across her shoulders, covering the straps on the red nightgown she is wearing.

"Finally?" he asks. "How long have I been asleep?"

"You won’t believe it, but you’ve been asleep for 18 hours, since you fell out on me yesterday," she replies, putting the food on the night table next to his bed. As she does so, he notices that the other side of the bed is also unmade. She notices this. "I hope you don’t mind," she offers, "but I’ve only got one bed."

"No," he says softly, while making himself more comfortable in a sitting position, as she sits down on the bed beside him. "But I thought you were married...and had children."

"Nah, not really," she replies, her face growing slightly flush as she looks over at him. "I just told those two hoodlums that hoping they would leave me alone."

"It didn’t work," he offers, reaching for the plate of food.

"Well, if I’d thought about it, I guess I’d have known it wouldn’t work," she replies. Then, noticing that he has already started on the food, she smiles slightly. "I figured you’d be pretty hungry, but you’re acting like you haven’t eaten in days."

"I don’t remember the last time I ate," he replies flatly, finishing the toast and reaching for the eggs. "Thank you for doing all of this for me."

"Oh, no problem," she replies. "After all, you saved my life. And, I’ve got to admit, it’s been nice having a man around the house." She looks at him, and he looks back at her, as if trying to comprehend the meaning behind her words. "But I didn’t know if you were ever going to wake up."

"I feel like I’ve been sleeping half of my life," he replies, putting the plate back on the end table, "although I don’t really know why."

"You still can’t remember anything, can you?" she asks, concerned, as she leans forward slightly.

"Only bits and pieces," he returns. "I remember fighting, fighting....and then I remember sleeping," he manages, then leans his head back against the headrest of the bed in frustration, as he puts his hands over his eyes, and runs them back along his hair. "I get flashes every now and then, but nothing substantial. I feel like I was working on something important...top secret."

"Maybe you were working for the FBI?" she asks, growing more interested.

He looks at her, as if she triggered something deep inside of him. He stares at her for several moments, but his thoughts are elsewhere, as he tries to put together the images flashing through his mind. "Yes," he says. "I did, but everything was so different..."

"Don’t push yourself," she offers. "There’s plenty of time, and I’ll work with you to help."

"Your kindness amazes me," he replies, trying to put his frustration behind him for a moment. "The last thing I remember was a riot...a red-bearded man, a gun..." he offers. "I just wish I could put it all together."

"You will," she replies, smiling at him, as she moves closer, her hand on his arm. "And it sounds like a good story." As she leans towards him, he cannot help but notice how low-cut her nightgown is, and how her eyes glisten in the dim lighting. He puts a hand on her waist, and pulls her towards himself, pleased to see that she doesn’t resist. He runs his hand along her hair on the back of her head, as she looks up expectantly. Then, he is surprised when she pulls herself closer, her breast pushing up against his bare chest, as her lips interlock with his.

Tarantula leaps at Cap, trying to kick him with his spiked boots. Cap side-steps out of the way, and brings his shield down across Tarantula’s shin, causing him to writhe in pain, as he falls to the ground.

"If there are going to be any lessons taught here, Tarantula," Cap comments, leaning forward, kicking Tarantula in the face, driving him back across the ground, where he crashes into a stack of boxes, "I’ll be the one who teaches them!"

Tarantula gets up quickly, leaping towards Captain America again. This time, he leads with his heel, and slams his foot into Cap’s mid-section, doubling him over. They both tumble to the ground with the momentum of Tarantula’s attack.

"I think not, my friend," Tarantula replies, getting to his feet, and twirling his body around, kicking his right foot out at Cap, who raises his shield once again to block the kick. "I have not returned from the grave to go back to school!"

Cap forces his way forward, hitting Tarantula in the mid-section with his shield, doubling him over. While Tarantula is doubled over, Captain America kicks his legs forward, slamming his knee into Tarantula’s chin, driving him to the ground hard.

"You keep talking about returning from the grave," Cap comments, standing over the Tarantula, who looks up at first in surprise, then with a growing smile on his face, as he moves his leg back, to a point where it is nearly behind Cap. "I guess the villains always do." There is a somber tone in his voice as he thinks back about one who didn’t return when the Avengers found him submerged in the ocean.

Suddenly, Tarantula sweeps his leg forward, striking Cap behind his knees and toppling him off-balance. "In a fight, signore," Tarantula comments, leaping to his feet quickly, even as Cap rolls on the ground to avoid another intended spiked kick, "it is not wise to let yourself be distracted."

"Good advice," Cap counters, kicking his legs forward quickly, leaping from his back to his feet instantly, and surprising Tarantula in the process. Before Tarantula can react, Cap leans back, sending out his elbow to Tarantula’s jaw, sending him back off-balance. "I’ll have to keep that in mind."

Cap then slams his foot into Tarantula’s chest, keeping him off-balance. Then, Cap continues his attack by slamming his fist into Tarantula’s face, jerking his head to one side violently. Cap then connects with an upper cut that lifts Tarantula into the air and sends him flying back, slamming into a series of boxes that explode under the pressure.

Cap walks over to Tarantula, finding him unconscious. As he slowly gets to his feet, however, he is confronted by a large, powerful figure that looks identical to Steve Rogers. Surrounding him are perhaps 20 AIM agents, all brandishing their weapons and pointing them his way.

"What?" Cap asks, stunned by the sight that greets him in the form of his double—although a larger version of himself. "But…?"

"How nice of you to come here," one of the AIM agents offers. "In your attempt to stop our suppliers, you have provided us with the opportunity to complete our tests…on you!"

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NEXT ISSUE: What—another Cap? What’s going on? Find out more about this new Cap, as well as more on Nomad and the other Cap that is running around in Harlem! All this and more in the action-packed CAPTAIN AMERICA #489!

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Well, this issue of Captain America was long overdue, but here it is. I hope everyone is enjoying the story as much as I’m enjoying sending it your way. This time, a lot of things stood in the way of getting this issue to you, including a hospital stay in September, a recovery from that, and some aggravation at work. But, like I said, here it is. I hope everyone will think it was worth the wait. As always, your comments and questions about this series are always welcome at jx2melton@hotmail.com. And now, let’s go to the letter for this issue.