Marvel/DC: Shards of Destiny #13

Written by WarlorTVor and Anomaly, Edited by Marvelite
Published by the Cosmic Powers Fan Fiction Group in

Characters are the properties of Marvel Comics
Click here for black&white text version (good for printing!)

Shards of Destiny
Return to the War of Yesteryear
Part Six - To The Hilt

This story is in fond memory to all the men and women who died at Pearl Harbor.
And to the many more that died fighting the Axis Powers in World War II.
God speed!

***For previous chapters, go to the Marvel/DC Cosmic Crossovers Archive***

“Greetings, all assembled! We originally had gathered here today to mark the celebration of the birth of the Nazi party and Nazism in general – under the watchful hand of Adolf Hitler, our glorious Fuhrer! But today we mark the capture of one of the Third Reich’s greatest, most feared enemy! I bring you the capture of Captain America!”

“Hail Hitler! Hail Hitler! Hail Hitler!”

On the small black-and-white television set that was in the main room of the small German underground safe house, the image of a battered and bleeding Captain America appeared. The Patriot’s body was strapped onto a cemented stone that was carved in the shape of an “X,” his arms were bounded above him, his legs below, and his head was still tall, not lowered. In utter defiance of Red Skull, Hitler, and every other damn Nazi or Nazi supporter in the entire room. In all of Berlin – for that matter.

“What - - What the hell?” A shirtless Nick Fury eased out of the back rooms; his ribs were bandaged in a white cloth that wrapped around his entire midsection. The area in which he was shot was soaked in blood. He pressed his body against the hallway wall.

The leader of the nonconformist outlawed band of former Nazi supporters, Tiberuis Striker approached the wounded American. “They have Captain America.”

“What?! That’s impossible!”

“See for yourself, Sergeant Fury,” the German made a sweeping motion toward the television set. And there, just as he had said, stood Captain America, beside him flanking him on either side, chained to their knees, the chains were connected toward the ground: Batman and Namor on one side, and the Human Torch was chained beside Logan. “As I said.”

With an unbridle anger and rage, Fury charged forth, the tip of his boot shattering through the glass of the machine. “We have to do something!” he declared.

“We cannot,” Striker said solemnly. “We are only fourteen, with you fifteen. This is not so much an underground movement as it is a safe house for wanted and hunted Jews. We are no match for the entire Nazi army,” he explained and when he saw the look of utter disdain on Fury’s face he knew that forth explanation was in order. “We have limited resources, Sergeant. And we can hardly live without fear of finding death’s touch. Now you say that we must seek it in a futile quest to charge and capture the lair of the beast itself. This is madness! Not even your costumed avengers, American, could stand up against their collective might. You ask us to face the firing squad head on. I have a family that I must consider, I have a son who I must make sure that our ideas are bestowed upon him without the dark cloud of Nazi tainting his soul.” His hand rested upon the bulging stomach of his pregnant wife.

“And it is for your son that I make this request, Tiberuis!” Fury cried out. “This war is not a war for a special costumed few to fight. It is a war that we all must join in. Or the evils of Nazism will rein supreme throughout the land and before you know what the hell happened, you’ll walk outside one day and see your son standing there. Hailing the approaching Fuhrer! Is that what you want? To stand by ideally and watch these atrocities happen. I know that by nature you are a pacifist, Striker! And I applaud you on what you and your family and others are accomplishing here in Berlin, by saving lives. But there is a time to save life and a time to take it! And this is one of those times, Striker!” He knew that his cold words were not passing through his cold exterior that he had thrown up around him so he decided to take a different approach. A more human approach. “Captain America saved your life! And that of your soon to be son’s and your wife’s; you owe him! At the risk of that of his own and the rest of us with him! If it was anyone else they would have left you and your family there to pay the price in sake of the mission. And more than likely you and your family would have been discovered as harboring those who were wanted and shot. I am not sure – to tell you the truth – what I would have done. But I’m not asking the favor upon me, I’m asking it for Captain America. ”

“I admit I owe him much – more than you can understand! But I will not help you, Nick Fury. That is debt that I cannot repay.”

“Fine!” Nick Fury grunted. Slamming a cigar in his mouth he stormed off to the room that they had mended his wounds in.  He then through on his uniform and strapped on his weapons and sidearm.

Nick Fury opened the door, but before stepping out he casted his glance over to Striker. Then Fury lowered his head and walked out. Striker turned to the reflection of himself that he had stared into earlier that day, and he saw a chance to redeem himself, if not in God’s eyes then that of his own, but that chance had walked outside the door resting on the shoulders of Nick Fury.

He arose, and walked over to the door. Opening it he called out, “Fury return!”

He stopped and turned around slightly. The rain was dripping off him. He looked back in the direction in which he was heading, then at the man in the doorway; pools of white light shimmered around him. And made his way slowly toward the shimmering man. “I am not doing this for you or for Captain America,” Striker said to Fury, who was standing on the walkway before him, “I do this for my inner demons.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Fury grunted and stepped in.

Captain America struggled, in vain, against the bonds that held him into place.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” Red Skull asked smiling, devilishly. “Enraged that I was able to lure you and the others into my awaiting grasp so easily? You should be more cautious with whom you speak with, perhaps.”

“What do you mean?” he rasped, blood trickling from out of the corners of his mouth.

“Nien!” one of the German officers bellowed, raising the whip within his iron grasp and bringing it down upon the shirtless Captain America, hard. Within the wake of the sudden blast of pain a massive red mark appeared on Cap’s chest. His body wanted to scream in pain, but he would not give in.

“It is all right, Lieutenant,” the Skull uttered, grinning devilishly at his greatest enemy’s disadvantage. And gleaming before Captain America, behind the massive stone podium, shrouded it toward the masses below, stood his majestic admantium shield. Cap took note of this, but just to make sure that Red Skull did not know where his gaze had fallen he shifted it upon the gathered crowds, searching. Soon he found what he was looking for, or rather whom. Baron Zemo stood there at the stage's end, beside an entire entourage of Nazi soldiers. “Pay attention, American,” Skull said, making his way toward the chained patriot, “and we might learn something. Do you remember the Nazi patrol that you and your companion, Batman, over there, the one attacking the young expecting woman and the German safe house?”

Cap nodded, not wishing to continue on this line of questioning. 

Skull’s diminutive little smile widened. “Well, Striker was the one who revealed your presence her in Berlin.”

This caught everyone by surprise, they all turned toward the Skull in disbelieve.

“It can’t be . . .” Whizzer hushed.

“I’ll kill him!” Namor grunted under his breath, struggling against the chains that bonded him to the ground.

“There it is . . .” Fury grunted, easing his way near a trash pin, the rain dripping on his shoulders, before him the massive Nazi building stood, silently.  Then from out of no where, a slender, blood covered hand rolled and started to rest on Nick Fury’s shoulder.

“F-F-Fury . . .” a weak voice called out to him.

He spun around, standing beside him was Striker, but it wasn’t his voice or his hand, for that matter. He eased his view into the pin only to see the battered and wounded Robin Silverback lying there, blood rushing out of her mouth wildly.


“T-t-t-they . . . k-k-k-k-knew . . . w-w-we . . . w-w-w-were . . . coming . . . Nick . . .” her voice was weak as she gagged out more blood. Her vision was glazed over. Life was slipping away from her already not so firm grasp.

“Damn it! I knew it!” Fury grunted. He reached out and took her cold, pale hand into that of his warm one. “Rest easy, Robin,” he hushed, his hands rubbing against her’s in the hope to keep her somewhat warm.

“S-s-s-s-s-so . . . c-c-c-c-cold.” Her lower lip was trembling uncontrollably. Her vision darkened, till she couldn’t even see Nick’s sorrow filled visage any more. She knew her eyes were opened. But there was nothing, she could feel herself falling away and the last words that left her mouth was, “Oh . . . my . . .”

And she was gone. Just like that.

“Rest easy, solider,” his hand reached out and closed her eyes. He arose from her body and stared at the glass doorway leading toward the Nazi building. “Let’s go,” he ordered.

“Yes,” Striker said, his German accent returned in force. “Hands in the air, American.”

That’s when he felt the iron of the barrel of a small side arm pressed into the small of his back, the weapon was cocked. He complied; his hands in the air slowly, Striker reached in and pulled out the gun from his body holster. “Let’s go.”

And the words You bastard! I’ll kill you for what you did to, Silverback! chimed out through Fury’s ears.

“You lie!” Captain America screamed grinding his teeth together.

“No, fair Captain,” a recognizable voice called out from the crowd. It was the voice of Tiberuis Striker, donned in full Nazi gray uniform. “The Red Skull speaks the truth. I did reveal that you were in Berlin. You must believe me when I say that I had no choice.”

Skull laughed.

Hitler bolted out of his chair. “Skull!” he commanded. “What is going on here?!”

“Ahh, Fuhrer,” Skull said humbly. “Striker was the one that informed myself – who masterminded this entire event in order to bring you our greatest enemy – of his presence in Berlin. We knew that he would arrive here sooner or later, due to the confirmed data about Zemo’s whereabouts – which was also doctrine by my forces to lure you here – we simply did not know when. And he supplied it for us.

“And who is this?” Skull asked motioning toward the man standing before Striker, who had the piece pressed into his back.

“His name is Sergeant Nick Fury, one of the wounded members of this failed strike team.”

“Ahh . . .”

The brightness of his smile was dimmed by the rage of a massive explosion outside the painted glass windows. Alarms sounded and chaos erupted among the Nazis in the massive gathering as they all scrambled around in order to safe themselves.

“Protect the Fuhrer!” Someone called out and Hitler was quickly whisked away from the scene. Another explosion sounded sending shards of painted glass onto the crowds.

Fury suddenly felt the cool touch of metal thrown into the back of his waistline. A quizzical glance painted his features and he had no time to ponder this unexpected mass. For it was right before he could feel Striker push him, harshly, downward. Nick Fury lunged headlong with great force into the scrambling sea of people.

Baron Zemo, not liking where this was heading, raced down stairs and stormed his way out of the building. He had not a clue why they wanted him, all he did know was that they did and that was good enough for him.

“Captain!” Striker shouted, taking aim of Captain America’s right hand shackle and fired. The bullet did not waver from its target. It tore through the bonds as if it wasn’t even there. Captain America not bothering to ask questions, reached forward for his left bond and tore it lose as well. Soon, with some more work, he was free. He turned to Striker just in time to see his body shattered by a barrage of weapons fire. He screamed aloud and collapsed to the ground, a pool of blood eased from his crumbled body.

“Striker!” he yelled, right before he saw the iron fist of Red Skull slam into the jaw of his face. He grunted and dropped to his knees.

“Get up, American dog!”

With one hand in the other, Captain America quickly slammed his fist into Skull’s midsection, doubling him over. “Fury!” he called out, searching the sea of people trying to find his soon-to-be best friend, to no avail.

“Right here, Cap!” Fury called out, releasing Batman from his bonds.

“Batman, I’ll try and handle the situation here you go and find Baron Zemo! We need him!” Cap ordered. Another explosion rang out, sending debris bathing the Red Skull; he screamed and scrambled to the back stage.

And before he could even finish his orders, the Dark Knight was gone, no where to be seen.

“Striker!” Cap hushed, propping his hand under Striker’s blood covered head. “Striker. Do you hear me?”

“Y-y-y-yes,” Striker hushed, his eyes were blurring. “I . . . am . . . sorry . . . Captain . . . But . . . he threatened to kill . . . my wife . . . and the . . . people in . . . the Exodus . . . I . . .”

“Converse your strength.”

Striker reached outward with blood soaked hands offering to Captain America, who took them without hesitation. “Can you . . . can you do me a favor . . .son?”

Cap nodded.

“Can you make sure . . . that my wife and the . . . Jews are out . . . of Berlin b-b-b-before . . . the Skull gets his hands on them? Please . . .” he grunted.

He nodded once again. “I will, Striker." 

“T-t-t-t-thank you, Captain . . . you are a . . . good . . . man . . .” his head went lulled back and he dead in Captain America’s arms.

Baron Zemo looked over his shoulder, still running from the demon that had followed him from the stage and deeper into the darkness, he was in a room filled with ammo crates. He turned the corner only to run straight into something a towering green cloaked being.

“What the . . .?” Baron Zemo grunted, as he crashed onto the floor before the massive being. “Who are you and how dare you stand in the way of Baron Zemo the First!”

A green gloved hand reached out touching Zemo on the head, and he calmly said one word, “Sleep.” And then Zemo was plunged into unconsciousness.

“Zemo!” Batman called entering the cargo hold room.

“I have him, Batman,” a voice called out.  Soon the Spectre came out from the darkness, the limp form of Baron Zemo, in his arms.

“Is he . . .”

“No, I self induced sleep upon him. He is resting now. We must go, Batman, for your task is not yet completed in this massive quest.”

“What about Captain America?” he asked.

“He has been dealt with. He will join us in the Void soon enough. Come. We must go. Time is of the essence.” And just like that the three of them were out of sight in a flash of pure golden light.

“Skull!” Captain America bellowed rising to his feet, and running the direction of the debris pile only to be stopped by a being emerging from a golden gateway.

“Captain! We must depart,” Access said with the utmost urgency.

“What about Zemo, Access?” Cap asked dashing toward his shield and strapping it onto his muscular forearm.

“Spectre and Batman have already placed him in the Void with the others!” He could hear the adrenaline pumping in his ears as bullets flew past his head. “We must go!”

“What about them?” he said cocking a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the brave men that were fighting for their lives against incredible odds. The Nazis were overrunning them. What was first a gunfight had devolved into an all out brawl. “I lead them into this! I cannot abandon them! I refuse to!”

With a wave of his hand, Access had teleported them to their proper time and place. “They are where they belong, Captain. Proper place, proper time. Soon the memories of yours and Batman’s arrival will fade and they will forget everything that happened here.” When he saw the look on Cap’s face, Access added, “A draw back in time travel. A way that the time stream ‘heals’ itself after a time travel disrupts it.”

“I need to go somewhere,” Captain America urged, looking at the shattered body of the late Tiberuis Striker. “I have a dying wish to keep.”

“But it’ll distort the timeline . . .” Access said, then saw the look on the captain’s face and took in a deep breath then let it out harshly. “All right. All right.”


And they stepped into the gateway and were no more.

“These people need to get out of Berlin, Access. They’re in danger, and since it was my presence here that caused their lives to be threatened it is my duty to see that they get out of here,” Captain America told him, as he and Access entered deeper into the darkness that is the Exodus.  A small boy ran toward Captain America and he picked him off from the ground. They were all there, Terri and all of the others were there.

“And I suppose you have an idea, Captain.”

A smirk danced his face. “In fact I do. There’s an abandon homestead in a distant Iowa farm. You can live off the land, and you’d be safe from the Nazis,” he told them all.

“Where are we going, Captain?” the boy asked, quizzically.

“Home, son. Home.”

Golden light took over them and the hell of Berlin was nothing more than a distant far off, fleeting memory.

Shards of Destiny continues in Part 1 of Beyond Infinity!

Thank you for reading this chapter of Marvel/DC: Shards of Destiny!  The saga continues in Shards of Destiny #14.  Visit the Marvel/DC Cosmic Crossovers Archive for previous editions.  Now, be sure to send us feedback below or by e-mailing





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