Capítulo 60: The Clone's brief Freedom -58
Fury leaned back, processing Natasha's words with a thoughtful expression. "Ricci's delusions of grandeur and righteousness could be a cover for more nefarious activities. Or he might actually believe he's a force for good. Either way, it's concerning. If he sees himself as some sort of guardian, who knows what lengths he'll go to."
Clint chimed in, "Did he give any indication of who these 'partners' might be? Any organizations or other individuals we should be aware of?"
Natasha shook her head, "Nothing concrete. But the way he spoke, it's clear he's not operating alone. He repeatedly mentioned 'balance' and 'necessary actions for the greater good.' It was all very cryptic, but it gave me the impression that a network or group is working with him."
Agent Coulson noted, "That could fit with some of the problems we have been having. There have been whispers of a group operating in the shadows, influencing events on a global scale. We've had a hard time pinning down anything solid, but Ricci's comments could be a piece of that puzzle."
Maria Hill added, "We need to dig deeper into Ricci's operations, find out who these 'partners' are. If they have enough power to influence someone like Ricci, they're a significant threat."
"Agent Romanoff, please continue with your debrief; we will discuss what to do with the information once we have the full picture." Fury called everyone back to the topic at hand.
"The information on the Mandarin was staggering; if the report was to be believed, he's more than 1000 years old and enormously powerful. Ricci believes that Nothing less than a nuclear bomb might be able to take him out in a frontal confrontation."
The mention of a nuclear bomb, humanity's most powerful and devastating weapon, sent a wave of shock throughout the room. The idea that any one person so powerful they require such a tool to deal with them was unbelievable.
Yet Fury couldn't help but remember someone else, a woman with incredible powers of her own. He knew that there could be people so strong they could be considered a nuclear weapon personified, and if there could be one, that could be two.
It wasn't the line of thought he liked, but he was not going to dismiss the idea out of hand, though he was even more eager for Natasha to write down a copy of the folder from her memory.
"Apparently, whatever group Ricci might have been part of believed that the only way to contain the danger that was the Mandarin was to give him what he wanted."
"And what did he want?" Fury interrupted with the question that was on everyone's mind.
"Apparently, he wanted revenge for the death of his wife. However, Ricci was planning to deliver this. I don't know."
"So someone killed the Mandarin's wife?" Clint asked.
"Am I the only one that is starting to feel that a conspiracy is at play here. First, this assassination of the Mandarin's wife destabilizes the world, bringing back an apparently 1000-year-old terrorist organization." Coulson said before Hill took over.
"Then Alexander Ricci attempts to reach out on behalf of some unknown cabal to restore peace and order, then Ricci is assassinated, throwing one of the largest criminal syndicates in the world into chaos."
"It could indeed seem like someone wants the world to be in chaos. That's someone killed the Mandarin's wife, and when that chaos seemed to have a solution, they assassinated Ricci to stop him from accomplishing his goal and cause even more chaos." Coulson finished.
"Agent Romanoff, please continue your debrief." Fury tried to once more get the conversation back on track. So, internally, he agreed with Coulson and Hill's assessment.
"The rest of the trip was uneventful until we landed. It's a security that was far above what even the US president normally enjoys. Yet it still happened, and it was so fast, so quick. Before I knew it, Ricci was dead, and I was a prisoner."
"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Clint couldn't help but ask, concerned for his friend's well-being.
"They were rough with me, but not, they didn't harm me." Natasha felt warmth knowing that someone cared for her.
"Did you find out anything about the assassination itself?" Hill asked.
"I managed to single out one member of Ricci detail, which I managed to get a little information out of. They seemed certain that the assassin was Shield."
Fury's one eye went wide at the accusation. The rest needed to think for a moment before they realized that they were probably Shield.
Clint couldn't help but look at Fury and ask the question that went through the room. "We didn't have anything to do with the assassination, did we, sir?"
"No, we did not."
Coulson then spoke about what everyone was feeling.
"Then is someone trying to frame us?"
"Is what agent Romanoff said about Ricci being part of some secret peacekeeping cabal, an illegal underworld version of us. Then, it's possible a third party is trying to create chaos. What better chaos than if they successfully turn everyone trying to make peace against one another."
If it was true, then it was a brilliant strategic move indeed. If those invested in keeping the peace started fighting, it would cause chaos and weaken their ability to create peace.
Then, if this third party then took the opportunity to strengthen themselves, perhaps building an army of enhanced soldiers, then by the time they were ready, there would be no one left in the world to stop them.
Everyone realized this, and Coulson, in particular, couldn't help but think about a mission he had just done not long ago.
"Romanoff, I need you to make a written report. It's to be delivered to me in person. This whole thing stays between us. Coulson, I need you to start ticking back into that operation you just busted. Hill, Barton, I need you two to keep your eyes and ears open."
With Fury's commands issued, a palpable tension filled the room. Each member of the team understood the gravity of the situation and the potential consequences of their failure to unravel this mystery. The stakes had never been higher, and the threat they were facing was unlike anything they had encountered before.
An unseen enemy, manipulating events to sow discord among those striving for peace, presented a challenge that required not just strength and intelligence but subtlety and discretion.
Natasha nodded solemnly, recognizing the urgency in Fury's voice. "I'll get started on that report right away, sir," she assured, already compiling the details in her mind to ensure Nothing was omitted. The information she had could be the key to identifying their adversary, and every detail mattered.
Coulson, too, felt the weight of his new assignment pressing down on him. The operation he had recently overseen had been around the rogue agent Graves and the mysterious killings around the world. After weeks of hard work, he had managed to find a trail. Eventually leading him to a secret base.
The raid had been an overall success, even if they hadn't gotten much information out of the place. In fact, the trail had gone completely cold after the raid. At first, he thought it was due to dealing a heavy blow, but now he wasn't so sure. Still, it was clear he needed to try and see if there were any clues he had missed the first time around.
Hill and Barton exchanged a glance, both understanding the role they had to play. Keeping their eyes and ears open meant more than just vigilance; it meant actively searching for clues for any sign of the enemy's machinations. It meant trusting no one, questioning everything, and always, always watching their backs.
As the meeting disbanded, each member of the team set out to fulfill their respective tasks. The air was thick with unspoken fears and uncertainties but also with determination. They were S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, after all—trained to face the unknown, to fight the shadows, and to protect the world from threats both seen and unseen.
---------------
[Berlin]
It was admittedly a very strange feeling that overcame him the moment before he realized that he wasn't in his room anymore.
One moment, it's been this same rather boring 4 walls of this containment cell. In the next, he was overcome with a cacophony of sounds; a whirlwind of stimuli overcame him.
The walls were gone, the boring white ceiling gone. Instead, he found himself under the wide open skies.
It was naturally confusing. As a long-term guest at the Foundation, he had learned a thing or two of strange. He was rather sad that someone would come to bring him back soon enough.
No, that didn't mean that he couldn't try an enjoyable list small with five from the monotone life yet got used to in containment.
After all, everyone here spoke German, meaning that he had returned home to his glorious Germany.
It was so very different from his own Third Reich. Clearly the newspaper articles he had been given access to had not been fabricated.
Oh no, it was all the truth. As he looked around, he could not help but feel disappointed that his Germany had fallen to this low.
All around him, he saw pure Germans mingle with lesser filth. All too ashamed of their past glories to say what he knew they all thought.
Kispert Germany clearly needed a strong hand of guidance. He had known this from listening to the radio and reading newspapers, but it was still different seeing it all in person.
Another disappointment was seeing how they had rebuilt the city. He could not deny that towards the end of the war, his beloved Berlin had suffered substantial damages, but it was a small loss. After all, he had plans to rebuild it better than ever, a truly glorious city.
A glorious, shining monument to his thousand-year Reich. Yet they had clearly wasted his efforts and the efforts of dear Albert Speer. This current Germany was a waste of endless possibilities.
Their leaders are a bunch of cowards who are too afraid of bringing glory to their people. Adolf knew his people, and he knew that deep down, their desires had not changed; they merely needed his firm hand to guide them once again.
Yet he was troubled by how he was supposed to guide them. After all, the Foundation would not allow him that amount of freedom. I was trying to escape their control with all but impossible.
It had not been easy even being allowed to write out just once a month to German newspapers, not that those damn newspapers even bothered to put his writing into print.
Decades of monthly at temps had yielded only a few handfuls of articles printed. He was not ignorant of modern conveniences.
Oh no, he knew well that this age was ripe with information thanks to the Internet. Oh, how he wished he had such a tool back in the day, enabling him to communicate better with his people.
If he had access to the Internet now and Goebbels at his side, he would manage to bring back the glory and pride of Germany in months, and within a year, the Reich would be rebuilt.
As Adolf stood amidst the bustling streets of Berlin, his mind a whirlwind of ambition and disdain, he realized the enormity of the task before him. The world had changed drastically since his time, and the ideologies he once championed were now buried deep beneath layers of history and condemnation.
Yet, within him burned the undying belief in his cause, a conviction that he alone could resurrect the glory of his fallen Reich.
However, his musings were abruptly interrupted by the realization that he wouldn't have time to do much; depending on the nature of the anomaly that had granted him this brief freedom, he might only have an hour or two before he would be found and contained.
He knew that this wasn't enough time to do much of anything; even trying to gather information wouldn't be possible in this short time. While the Internet was perfect for that, He had never used it before.
Trying to learn how to use it would be difficult in the limited time, much less both learning it and then using it to learn more about the current Germany.
Yet, as he was standing there, lost in his own thoughts and taking in the sounds and sights of modern-day Berlin, his presence hadn't gone unnoticed. He was, after all, dressed in his favorite and rather iconic military-style uniform.
Complete with the high collar jacket, adorned with medals and insignia, even if only cheap imitations of the real ones he once owned.
His belt, too, was bearing the insignia of the Nazi party, the mighty eagle clutching a swastika. Add on his Schirmmütze featuring the Nazi Party eagle and swastika emblem; well, he was drawing a lot of attention to himself.
Soon enough, a crowd had formed around him, with an equal amount of curious and outraged people watching, not knowing what to do.
It wasn't until some perhaps brave or foolish teenagers ran up to him and asked for a selfie before standing by the sides of the man dressed and looking like Adolf Hitler and snapped a selfie without even waiting for his response.
Adolf himself was slightly confused at first, but as more and more people, both German and foreigners, went up to him and had a photograph taken with their modern technology, he started to realize what was going on.
They were treating him like some kind of tourist attraction, some kind of stunt. He was equal parts outraged and baffled by the whole thing.
The crowd at large remained split about whether they should be outraged or impressed by the man who seemed to have worked hard to take on the appearance of Adolf Hitler.
Yet, more and more constantly had their pictures taken with the man cosplaying as the former dictator of Germany.
He suddenly remembered something from a few years back. For no rhyme or reason, he had been allowed to watch a film in his room.
Thinking back, the entire plot of land film seemed to be what was happening right now. Except that version of himself had time traveled to the present time rather than being an immortal clone like himself.
Still, the time-traveling version had managed to use the innate desires of German people to rise to power.
An interesting idea, yet Adolf knew that it was an impossibility the Foundation would not allow it, but perhaps he could use this to his advantage.
If he could make enough of a splash to get enough attention on himself now, he might be able to ensure that newspapers would be more willing to publish some of his writings.
It was perhaps the only way he could properly utilize his momentary freedom to accomplish anything. In the long run,. It would be a small seed that would grow Into something grand.
With that in mind, he started to play along, smiled and waved, and delivered lines for people who recorded the entire ordeal.
He pretended it was all a play, but he knew very well that every iconic line he delivered had once united the German people around him. And these iconic lines would do so again. These people around him just didn't know it yet.
Time moved by quickly as he carried out his plan as best he could, and it was almost as if the gods themselves desired his success. The people outraged by what they saw did not interrupt him; instead, they seemed to be calling law enforcement.
He did not care much about that. Even his arrest would only serve to spread the news of his appearance here further and spark conversation. I thought they were not. It wasn't time to allow for some changes in the law.
No prison would hold him for long as the Foundation would break him out and place him back in containment. From there, he would then be able to carry out the next phase of his plan.
His thoughts were suddenly cut short by the approach of individuals who seemed out of place in the casual flow of the city's rhythm. Dressed inconspicuously yet moving with a purpose that betrayed their intentions, they were clearly not ordinary citizens.
Adolf's instincts, honed by years of leadership and warfare, told him these were agents sent to retrieve him. The Foundation, it seemed, had not taken long to notice his absence and his appearance here.
He did not resist as they asked him to follow. He freely allowed them to contain him, knowing that any attempts at resistance would both be futile and harm his chances at being allowed to communicate with the outside world as he had been previously.
He would, however, be writing an appeal to the Ethics Committee, hoping that he could perhaps be allowed to write more than once a month.
A/N
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