Captain America 2099UG
The Legacy Saga
Issue #1
Written by Jason C. Smith
Edited by Hugo Ferreira
The moon spread out over the lawn in the misty mountains of New York. The Catskills had proven to be a safe haven for many over the past centuries, but nothing would save Vernon Callister from the lone figure slipping in and out of the shadows around his estate. He sat impatiently within his home, looking toward the windows, clutching his robe around him. He jumped at each minute noise, as it startled him. Finally, he sat down in a large chair, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, and slowly lit a cigar with his shaking hands.
"When will those idiots get here," he said aloud. The thought that he was talking to himself never crossed his mind, as he was happy to break the silence.
"You can't count on anyone these days," he sighed. Suddenly he leaped up out of his chair, dropping his cigar on the expensive carpet, as he heard what sounded like footsteps on the roof. He quickly made his way to the study where he kept his gun. He didn't think that it would help, but anything was better than giving up. Besides, maybe he could hold them off
until they got here. He sat down at his desk, pulled out the drawer, and turned off the safety on the antique gun. The old firearms of the twencen century may be out of date, he thought, but they're still deadly. He switched off the light and sat back in his chair...waiting.
The lone figure moved through the upper rooms in the house with an unmatched silence. He had now focused completely on the hunt. Callister was his prey, and he always got his man. He quickly made his way down the stairs, and into the open living area of the mansion. The room looked like someone had recently been in it. The lights were still on, and the furniture had wrinkles from recent use. He worked his way over to the big window, looking for clues. He walked over to the chair and kneeled down on the ground looking upon the burning cigar. He felt the seat and noted the warmth of body heat. He was here, he thought. He looked ahead and noticed a footstool that was knocked over and marks in the carpet that led to a closed door. He stood up and smashed the smoldering cigar into the carpet as he started off toward the door.
He got in front of the door, gritted his teeth, and threw all of his weight into it, knocking it off of its hinges. Upon impact, Callister began firing away at the figure, who moved with a speed and grace that was like that of an Olympian gymnast. Callister kept shooting away, but the man stayed one step ahead of him the entire time. Finally, with a giant leap, he landed upon the desk, lashing out with a leg sweep, which knocked the gun from Callister's hand. "Oh my God! They sent you! America!!!"
Captain America bent down and grabbed Callister by his robe, pulling him to his face, so that they were looking eye to eye. Callister winced at the Captain's hot breath. He was very afraid, and America knew it.
"That's right, suit. They sent me. You must be very important," he grimaced.
"I haven't done anything to deserve this. I'm just giving back to the community that helped me that's all. What's wrong with that?"
The Captain ignored his question and replied, "So, mutants helped you get where you are today? I should have known that you wouldn't do it like any other decent American. You disgust me, squandering your wealth on muties. I'm glad that headquarters gave me this assignment."
"I can't believe this. I thought DOME was supposed to help mutants, not track them down and kill them! What kind of symbol do you stand for anyway?"
"Termination is our aide. They are better off de--," he said as Callister cut him off.
"Termination!!!! You cold-hearted bas--," he replied as America quickly shut him up with a backhand. Callister cowered down and rubbed his cheek. That hurt bad, he thought, and Captain America was actually holding back!
"You don't interrupt me, suit. I was sent because you have been found guilty of harboring mutants. Mutants who have performed numerical crimes against the great city of Washington, D.C. And I think you know what the sentence is... unless, of course, you decide to help me. It would make things a lot less difficult for us both," said the Captain as he grinned.
"I wouldn't count on it, jerk. I would rather die than help you or DOME!"
"Don't be so willing to die, friend. I don't work quickly."
As he said this he grabbed Callister by the throat and slowly began lifting him out of his chair. As he held him up above him with his legs dangling in the air, he slammed him into the wall behind the desk. He leaped down beside him, hauling off and kicking him in the ribs. The adamantium lacing his skeleton made the power behind the blow even more powerful. The force of the attack knocked Callister over on his back. Captain America reached down, grabbed him by the robe once again, and slammed him into the wall, holding him up so that he could look him in the face. He shook him, attempting to revive him just a bit.
"So, did that change your mind any, suit?"
Callister could taste the blood in his mouth, as he shook his head. He looked down upon the Captain and noticed that his vision was blurred. He looked upon the star on America's uniform. What is the world coming to, he thought. He grimaced as America shook him again, demanding his attention. Callister concentrated to focus, and spit a fine mixture of blood and saliva into America's face. And that was the last thing that he could remember.
Captain America quickly became outraged and threw one devastating punch to Callister's face. The Captain did not, however, hold back this time, and a large mass of blood erupted from Callister's beaten face. His nose was smashed across his face, and as America released him, his body slumped up against the wall, and slid down to the floor, leaving a trail of blood pointing down upon his body. The Captain dusted off his hands and turned to investigate his office. Now was the hard part, he thought.
He laid his shield on the desk and began shuffling through the papers. He was looking for any clue as to where the mutants known as the Raiders were hiding. They had been charged with destruction of public property and the theft of government documents. They claimed that their acts were against hate crimes between the government and mutants. They kept preaching about equality, but what did they know of that, the Captain thought. They were just freaks, genetic mistakes. And Captain America was more than happy to help DOME in whatever way he could. After all, they supplied the experiments that enhanced his already super-serum laced blood cells. So, when they asked him to join the Department of Mutant Ethnics, he was ready. Years later, he felt that it was the best decision that he had ever made. It also gave him the chance to step in and reclaim his rightful title, his legacy. The family name of Rogers must go on, as well as the mantle of Captain America.
He picked up an old photo and turned to look at it's back. The clamps that held the frame together looked worn as if they had been removed numerous times over the years.
He gently removed the back and wasn't surprised to find something inside. He was, however, quite surprised to find a folded map within. He pulled it out and saw that it was an old road map from the D.C. area. And on the map, he saw a street marked. He smiled and looked over at Callister's corpse.
"I can't believe that you would be so careless," he said as he shook his head. He folded the map back up, stuffed it into his glove, and picked up his shield. He slowly opened the window in the study. He looked around one last time, and pleased with his work, he disappeared out into the cold night. His shadow danced across the lawn, as he made his way to his air-cycle. He could use the roads, before making it to the mag-lev tracks which led straight to D.C. from Nueva York. He placed the shield around his back and powered the vehicle up. He drove away from the estate thinking about his nice warm bed at home. He smiled as the cool air hit him in the face. Yes, everything was fine."
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Washington D.C., 8:00 a.m.
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Nicholas staggered out of his bedroom into the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes before opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a carton of milk. He opened it, took a deep drink, and wiped the milk mustache from above his lip. Then, he walked out into the living area and opened his door. He placed the carton on the ground and picked up the newspaper. Then he scooped up the carton, and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. He unfolded the paper to the front page and read the headline, which said:
"PHILANTHROPIST KILLED IN MUTANT HATE CRIME"
Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and frowned. The media always blows things out of proportion, he thought. I know that I did my job. I know what is important to this country and what's best for it. And more importantly, Captain America knew.
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