The next morning, the road to the laboratory was choked with black sedans and armored trucks.
Ernst's car was stopped three times.
Even with his clearance, he was patted down, scanned, and questioned by nervous SS guards.
Schmidt is terrified, Ernst thought, noting the sweat on a young soldier's brow.
Whatever he brought here, he fears it as much as he covets it.
By the time Ernst reached the inner sanctum, he had passed through four security perimeters.
Inside, the Red Skull waited.
He stood next to a heavy lead-lined table, his crimson face illuminated by the glow of a sealed containment unit.
"Dr. Ernst," Schmidt rasped.
"You may look. But do not touch. And do not ask to take it back."
"Understood," Ernst said, stepping forward.
In the center of the table sat a reinforced glass cylinder filled with viscous blue suspension fluid.
Floating inside was a bone.
It was a phalanx, a finger bone, but it was massive, easily the size of a man's forearm.
It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic cosmic energy that made the fillings in Ernst's teeth ache.
Ernst felt a primal pull.
His X-Gene hummed in resonance.
Power.
He picked up the dossier lying next to it.
Subject: Artifact 9.
Origin: Egypt, Valley of the Kings. Excavated 1913.
Previous Owner: Grigori Rasputin.
Notes: "The Flesh of the Gods."
Ernst's mind, running at 27.3% capacity, connected the dots instantly.
Egypt. The birthplace of En Sabah Nur, Apocalypse, the first mutant.
Legends said Apocalypse gained his power from "gods" who descended from the stars.
This isn't a god, Ernst realized, staring at the fossilized metal-bone structure.
It's a Celestial.
It was a fragment of a Universe level being.
A being that manipulated genetic code on a planetary scale.
If Apocalypse had used Celestial technology to become immortal, then this bone contained the genetic blueprint for evolution itself.
'I need it', Ernst thought, his pulse spiking.
'I need to consume it.'
But he kept his face a mask of academic curiosity.
"Fascinating," Ernst muttered.
"The tissue density is off the charts. It implies a being of immense size and power."
"It implies divine," Schmidt corrected.
"And soon, we will distill it."
As Schmidt turned to bark orders at a guard, Ernst leaned over the box.
He pretended to wipe a smudge from the glass.
In reality, he pricked his thumb on a sharp corner of the casing.
A single drop of blood fell onto the metal hinge of the box.
'Bond', Ernst commanded silently.
Using his molecular control, he didn't just let the blood dry.
He willed the cells to stay alive, to harden and fuse with the metal.
It was a biological beacon. Wherever this box went, Ernst would feel it.
"We begin work immediately," Ernst announced, turning back to Schmidt.
"This material... it will be the catalyst for the Gen-2 Serum."
Two Months Later
The laboratory was a pressure cooker.
The Second Generation Serum was nearing completion, but the atmosphere was toxic.
Schmidt was growing more erratic, prone to violent outbursts.
Dr. Abraham Erskine looked like a ghost.
He was pale, jumping at shadows.
Ernst watched him from across the lab.
He knew the story.
Erskine was going to defect.
He was going to America to create Captain America.
Good, Ernst calculated. Chaos is a ladder.
If Erskine ran, Schmidt would be distracted.
Security would be diverted. That would be the moment to strike.
One afternoon, while the guards were changing shift, Erskine approached Ernst's workbench.
"Dr. Ernst," Erskine whispered, his eyes darting to the cameras in the corners.
"A word?"
Ernst didn't look up from his microscope.
"Make it quick, Abraham."
"Have you noticed?" Erskine hissed.
"The General... he is losing his mind. The Serum amplifies everything. His ambition has become madness. He is going to burn the world down."
"He is fighting a war," Ernst said flatly.
"Wars require fire."
"But we are scientists!" Erskine pleaded, grabbing Ernst's sleeve.
"We agreed to create a soldier, not a monster. There is a difference between defense and slaughter. We have a moral obligation, "
"Stop," Ernst cut him off.
He turned to face Erskine.
Ernst's eyes briefly glowed with a faint electrical charge.
Electromagnetic Manipulation: Active.
Ernst focused his mind, sensing the frequencies of the listening devices hidden in the walls and under the desks.
With a mental push, he generated a localized static field, a white noise bubble that would sound like interference to anyone listening in.
"Listen to me closely, Dr. Erskine," Ernst said, his voice dropping to a cold, hard whisper.
"You talk of morality? Science is a gun. It does not care who pulls the trigger. You invented the car; they built the tank. You invented the radio; they coordinated the blitzkrieg."
"But, "
"There are no saints here," Ernst said, leaning in.
"We build the weapons. The politicians fire them. If you cannot stomach the blood, then you are in the wrong profession."
He stared into Erskine's eyes, communicating a deeper message: I know you are planning to leave. Go. I won't stop you.
Erskine looked at Ernst, seeing the cold intelligence behind the glasses.
He realized he would find no ally here, but perhaps... he had found a distraction.
"I see," Erskine said softly, stepping back.
"I... I understand."
"Good," Ernst said, dropping the static field.
"Now get back to work. The titration won't balance itself."
As Erskine hurried away, looking more determined than ever to defect, Ernst smiled.
He had just pushed the pawn.
'Run, Abraham, Ernst thought. Run to the Americans. And when the Red Skull chases you... I will take the prize.'
-------------
Authors Note:
Do you want to read 25+ Chapters ahead right now?
Stop waiting. Come over to the dark side. We have cookies, advanced chapters, and a very, very detailed 'plot.'
patreon.com/
Dark_sym