December, 1945. A snow-enshrouded village near Nuremburg, Germany.

<"Give him to me,">* the young woman insists. <"Please, give me my son.">

(* Translated from German -- Russ)

The midwife relinquishes the newborn into its mother's arms. <"My son,"> the girl weeps, her voice hoarse with exhaustion from her labor. <"He's so beautiful....">

On the other side of the room, a middle-aged man takes his own grinning son - almost a man himself, at nearly 18 years - by the arm and leads him sternly to the most secluded corner of the tiny hut.

<"I can see what you are thinking, Carl,"> the older man hisses. <"I can read it in your eyes, and I forbid it. You know nothing of this woman. She stumbled into our home, starving and half-insane, nearly 6 months ago, and she still hasn't seen fit to tell us even who the father of her child is.">

<"It doesn't matter,"> the younger man replies. <"I love her, father. I wish to marry her.">

<"You are an impetuous, young fool and she is probably some Nazi gestapo's whore!">

In the birthing bed, the young woman is vaguely aware that she is being talked about, but can hardly bring herself to care. She cradles the squirming newborn against her breast, softly shushing its piercing cries. <"No one shall ever know who your father is, my little one."> She nuzzles the newborn's cheek softly. <"Not even you. My Arik.">

Today. Berlin, Germany, on what was once the East side of the wall.

Berlin is like many large cities at night: busy streets, dark alleys, commerce - both legal and otherwise - barely halted by the loss of the sun. And when seen from above, Berlin is a beautiful starfield of lights. Breathtaking in the randomness of its structure.

Just like any other city, Captain America thinks, standing atop the Berlin Document Center and gazing at the streets below. Just like any other... and yet, something about it brings the War back like nothing else. World War II was Captain America's baptism of fire, his rite of passage. It is not a time he wishes to revisit, even in his own mind. He was rougher with those Sons of the Skull punks today than he needed to be... because this city brings out the worst in him. There's no denying that.

He has spent the last 12 hours poring over a portion of the 25 million Nazi documents housed in the building below him. He has what he needs now to begin his search for Arik Schonbein. Lord knows what the man is going through.

A hidden, World War II-era bunker near Nuremburg.

<"Men and women of the new Reich,"> the tall, bronzed man says from the catwalk overlooking the vehicle hangar, <"long have we toiled in silence, awaiting the day when we could reclaim the glorious legacy of purity promised us by der Fuhrer. We knew from the beginning that we must bide our time, build our forces, until we could shore up our message of racial purity with the power to defend our principles.">

Slowly, the man begins pacing along the length of the catwalk, hands behind his back. Once - not that long ago, really - he had been a successful west German businessman, his handsome, successfully capitalist mask hiding his Nazi sympathies. Now he is Master Man, having stolen the name from a Nazi hero of World War II whom he had a role in destroying. He has seen much... but never, in all his days and experiences as a leader of men, has he felt the electric excitement he feels from the crowd of nearly two thousand bodies on the hangar floor below him.

<"The hypocrites who now lead our mightiest nations will decry us... attempt to misrepresent our message as one of hate."> He leans against the railing, aiming his words at his audience with the perfect amount of moral outrage. <"I do not hate the Jews. I do not hate the Pols and the Negroes. Nor do I ever expect those races to be completely eliminated - but these obstacles do not excuse us from attempting to achieve it. That is the very definition of an ideal, and it is exactly because we will never be truly, racially pure that we must ever endeavor to be so.">

Master Man steps back from the railing, his heavy leather trenchcoat creaking softly as he gestures to the wall behind him, where an unassuming man of middle-age has emerged, dressed in black and red robes. <"We will not surrender our ideals, my friends. For we now have a constant reminder of the heritage to which we owe so much.">

He pauses dramatically. Below him, the audience stops breathing. <"I present to you the greatest and most important secret of the former Reich. Arik Schmidt."> - another pause - <"Son and heir to the Red Skull.">

Arik approaches the railing hesitantly. Hundreds of faces are turned up to him, struck dumb with awe at the heritage he wasn't even aware of until yesterday.

Arik is not happy to be here. All his life, he's been a simple locksmith, happily married, no children (for once, he thanks God for this, since any children would be just as much a target as he has become). His mother and adoptive father raised him to hate Nazis, to despise them for the things they had done to their own country as well as to that of others.

And yet...

He raises an arm spontaneously, to wave, and the hand is not even fully extended before the hangar floor has erupted in cheers and applause. The sound of all those voices and hands pounds into him from below, shakes the very walls of the bunker. For the first time since he'd been abducted from his home, Arik Schonbein feels his lips part in a small smile.

His wife - his very life - begins to seem very far away.

Kurt Bidembach leans back in his seat and sighs, one finger pressing his right nostril closed as a line of powdery heaven finishes its trip up the left. He has two more lines laid out on a tiny mirror on his desk, but Kurt is nothing if not patient. He'll let the first line of coke do its job before sucking up the rest.

He turns and looks out the glass wall of his very expensive office. It took a long time to climb up this far, from his less-than-humble beginnings as a Berlin street urchin, and he hopes dreamily that he never becomes jaded to all the beautiful things he has now, hopes he never stops appreciating how high he's climbed.

A knock sounds at his door.

He turns toward it, puzzled. No one ever knocks at his door. They must always pass the receptionist, who will announce them and walk them through to the office. Frowning, he leans over and keys the intercom on the desktop. <"Louise? Are you at your desk?">

No answer. As he considers the implications of that, another knock comes at the door.

There is a .22 in a holster attached inside the leg well of Kurt's desk. He draws it, then stands and crosses to the entrance. <"Who is it?"> he asks angrily, trying to deny the fear churning in his gut.

No reply, not even another knock.

Slowly, Kurt reaches out and ever-so-gently turns the cool brass knob. He peeks around the edge of the door as it swings open, keeping the .22 hidden behind his back as he does so. On the other side are the broadest shoulders and the squarest jaw Kurt has ever seen, all attached to a proud man in a silly red, white, and blue uniform.

Screeching, Kurt whips the gun from behind his back and fires. Before he can depress the trigger, the star-spangled man has brought up a metal disc with the same color scheme as his costume. The bullet bounces harmlessly off the shield and buries itself in the ceiling above.

"Herr Bidembach," Captain America says, pushing the door open and stepping in. Kurt stumbles back in panic, tries to aim again, but Cap catches his hand, twists neatly and almost painlessly, and now the gun is his. <"Give me that, son, before you hurt yourself.">

<"You-you can't come in here!"> Bidembach squeals, taking cover behind his desk. <"This is outrageous! You can't-">

<"Quiet,"> Captain America says, reaching across the desktop and gently shoving Kurt backward. The man flops down into his own chair and stares dumbly at the hero towering over him.

<"Count your blessings. If I'd been Hawkeye or Iron Man, I would have knocked your door down, or maybe even come in through the window."> Leaning over the desk, Cap catches sight of the mirror in front of Bidembach, with the white lines of powder lain across it. With a frown, he sweeps the mirror away with one hand.

<"Now, Herr Bidembach,"> the Avenger continues, stepping around the desk and having a seat on its edge, right in front of the petrified businessman, <"I've been made to understand that you have some... inappropriate ties to a gang of neo-Nazis known as the Sons of the Skull. Two nights ago, members of this group abducted a Berlin man from his home. I need to know where they've taken him, and I need to know it now... with minimum trouble. Do you understand me?">

<"You expect me to talk?"> For the first time since the Avenger entered the office, Kurt barks out a laugh. <"Even if I knew anything about the Sons, why in the world would I just tell you? Why would I implicate myself and put my own life in danger?">

<"I suspect you'll do it out of the kindness of your heart.">

Bidembach laughs again. <"Then you don't know me very well, American.">

Cap sighs, looks for a moment out the plate glass window facing the city below, then returns his gaze to his host. <"Herr Bidembach... I have a story to tell you. When I finish, I know you'll do everything in your power to help me eliminate the Sons of the Skull. I'll bet this story will turn your entire life around, in fact.">

<"Really,"> Kurt sneers, feeling more confident with every moment he remains unharmed. <"And what is this story called?">

<"It's called, 'Captain America's First Nazi Death Camp'. And it goes like this...">

Forty-five minutes later, the Sentinel of Liberty is speeding across Berlin, his trademark motorcycle humming powerfully over the city streets. Somewhere behind him, in an impressive office in an equally impressive office building, a young businessman named Kurt Bidembach is weeping uncontrollably, his very soul torn from him by the remembered atrocities Cap described in such vivid, shocking detail. Of course he knew about the things that happened at Auschwitz, Sachsenhausen, Chelmno and the rest, but he'd never really known until this night.

He will walk out of his office a very different man from the one that entered it that morning. And he will begin to wonder what price he is paying for all the good things he has.

<"You begin to understand our message...">

<"I begin to understand nothing!"> Arik Schonbein snaps. He has never been a fighter, but he suddenly sees himself very vividly punching this so-called 'Master Man' right in the nose. The reality of it is that he'd never complete the swing, and only his host's assumed reluctance to harm the heir of the Red Skull would save Arik from a sound thrashing.

"Arik," the bronzed man insists, <"you must not lie to me. Worse, you must not lie to yourself. You are beginning to enjoy this - the attention, the adulation. You have heard our speeches, felt our passion, you know ours is the right way, but your poorly-informed sense of morality keeps you from admitting it.">

<"You are nothing more than a reckless boy,"> Arik hisses. <"I grew up during the horrible years following the war. I saw the aftermath of the Third Reich. I saw how it tore this country to shreds so the wolves could snap up the pieces! You will never understand the fire you play with when you try to resurrect this evil!">

<"That is your upbringing speaking, Arik. That is not truth. Truth was the smile I saw on your lips as you greeted your people today, the passion you felt as they showered you with adulation. When was the last time you felt passion for a cause, for an ideal like that, Arik? Have you ever? You have lived among sheep all your life, and now that you find yourself among wolves, you insist on judging them by the moral platitudes of the sheep.">

<"That's ridiculous. Right is right and wrong is-"> he stops as an alarm blares from the speakers placed at intervals throughout the complex. Doors burst open up and down the corridor and men and women pour out, pulling on combat gear and setting rifles to shoulders.

<"What is-"> Arik begins, but then Master Man is cursing and taking him roughly by the arm, guiding him down the corridor in the direction of Arik's room. <"Take your hands off of me!">

Master Man halts and yanks fiercely on Arik's arm, forcing a cry of pain out of the man and drawing him up until the two of them are nose to nose. <"Listen to me, Arik Schmidt-">

<"Schonbein! My name is-">

Master Man gives another painful shake and Arik quiets down. <"I would prefer to have you alive as inspiration for our troops, but inspiration may stem from martyrs as well. Do you understand me?">

Whimpering from the pain in his shoulder, Arik nods.

<"Good, now be silent and follow me.">

The first two-dozen troops are easy. They fight like good soldiers, but Captain America is the best of soldiers.

Now they've pulled out the heavy artillery, and Cap finds the corridors nearly impassable, so clogged are they with enemies. He continues to fight, though. He's surmounted worse odds; it's just hard to remember exactly when.

Someone in the enemy ranks panics and tosses a grenade in the close confines of the bunker. Scowling, Cap dives for it, smacking the pineapple with his shield into a nearby wall. The following explosion rocks the entire bunker, showering the Nazis with debris and smoke. But none of them are harmed. The more intelligent among them consider this fact as the dust clears and there is no longer any sign of the American.

Master Man shoves Arik into the older man's quarters moments after the explosion from the grenade rocks the complex. Turning, Master Man frowns, then follows Arik into the room and shuts the door behind him. Turning away from Arik in contempt, he pulls a small radio from the pocket of his leather trenchcoat.

<"Report.">

From his position on the other side of the room, Arik hears, <"Sir... -nder attack... Captain Am-... -isappeared.">

Apparently, Master Man gleans more from this than Arik does, because he throws the radio away with a curse and reaches inside his coat. When he draws forth a large handgun, Arik can't say he's all that surprised.

<"Remember what I said about martyrs, Arik?"> he says, teeth gleaming in a smile that looks more like a desperate scream. <"Captain America is free somewhere in this bunker. I can shape your death to suit my needs - perhaps even blame it on the Captain - but I will not risk him freeing you, Herr Schmidt."> He pulls back the hammer on the pistol. <"Goodbye.">

The door explodes inward, and Master Man whirls, bringing the gun around to meet this new threat. Captain America is already charging, having dropped the bloodied Nazi who led him here in the doorway. 2 rounds ricochet off his shield before Cap reaches Master Man, smashing him backward with momentum and flattening him against the wall.

"It's you then, Herr Nacht," Cap says, ducking a wild swing by his opponent. "Here I was expecting Willie Lohmer,* and instead I get Master Man, the sequel." He draws back and smashes the edge of his shield into Master Man's temple, driving the Nazi back through the stone and mortar wall. He leans over to follow through with another blow, but suddenly he's hurtling backward, nearly striking Arik on his flight across the room.

(* Willie Lohmer was the original, WWII-era Master Man, an American who joined with the Nazis and was enhanced by them -- Russ)

"Meddler!" Master Man cries, rocketing forth from the hole in the wall. He flies across the room - literally flies, Arik realizes in amazement - and scoops Captain America up by the throat. Holding the Avenger above the ground by one hand, he shouts, "I have engaged that half-breed partner of yours, Namor, in personal combat! How can you hope to stand against me, little man? You're time is done, do you hear? Look on the face of the future!"

Gasping and choking in the madman's grip, Cap swings his shield. Master Man catches the arm and wrenches the shield free of his opponent's grip, tossing it aside inconsequentially.

"Are you ready to die, American?"

Arik sees the shield fall at his feet. He has never been considered a hero (until recently). He has never been a fighter (until he was brought here). He has never been a leader of men (until he stood in front of that crowd this morning). But he dives for the shield - the only weapon in the room - without hesitation.

"Not long now, Hauptmann..."

<"Let him go!">

Master Man whirls at Arik's shout, and ducks as the American's shield flies toward him. The movement distracts the villain for just a moment, and Captain America - barely conscious - seizes the opportunity. He strikes upward, viciously jabbing Master Man in the nerve cluster under his exposed armpit. The Nazi screams with pain and drops him, falling from the air himself as all the muscles on the left side of his body seize up.

Cap is on him in a moment, pounding him again and again, trying to beat him into unconsciousness before he can renew the attack. Blows strong enough to shatter ordinary human bone descend on Master Man's head again and again, but they only serve to daze him.

"Captain."

Cap pauses, and turns. Behind him is Arik Schonbein - the man he came here for. And behind Arik, in the doorway of the little room and crowding the corridor outside, are dozens of Master Man's acolytes. On the floor of the little room, Master Man begins to laugh through his blood-caked and swollen lips.

<"Kill him!"> he shouts. <"Destroy the American before he can kill the Skull's heir!">

Cap takes a defensive stance, ready to make a final stand if it comes to that. But none of the underlings make a move toward him.

<"What are you waiting for?"> their leader demands. <"Kill him now! He is here to harm Herr Schmidt!">

Then Master Man pauses. Standing at the front of the crowd is a young man he recognizes as an officer in his forces. The young man is holding a small black object against his chest numbly. It is a radio, one of the small units they use to communicate inside the bunker. Master Man's eyes go wide in recognition and he glances across the room to the small communicator he threw into a corner. He threw it there in anger, without thinking.

Without turning the 'send' switch off...

The young officer gestures at those behind him, and then the Nazis part, leaving a path through the doorway and, presumably, through their forces. Cap nods in understanding and, retrieving his shield, takes Arik by the elbow and leads him out. They do not look back.

Master Man remains on the floor, sputtering in anger and sudden fear. They know. His forces know he intended to kill their figurehead, the blessed son of the visionary Adolf Hitler.

<"I am still your leader!"> he proclaims, getting clumsily to his feet and wiping the blood from his face. <"I am still your better!">

The young officer gestures again, this time toward Master Man.

And then they descend upon him.

EPILOGUE

Arik Schonbein stands on the roof of his apartment building, considering the streets of Berlin below him. He has been home with his beautiful Gladys for nearly 2 weeks now. She is puzzled by the subtle changes she senses in him, but for the time being, she is so happy to have him home, she doesn't ask questions. This is good. If she pressed him, he might have to tell her what actually happened in Nuremburg.

For the time being, he has decided to tell no one, not even Gladys, exactly why he was abducted. Captain America was very understanding in this regard, and agreed to keep Arik's secret.

He wants no one to suspect who he may or may not be. There is no way to be certain one way or the other, after all - the Red Skull is dead, and Arik's own mother passed away almost 10 years ago. So he must choose to trust what his parents led him to believe all his life, and to dismiss the rantings of a Nazi madman.

And yet...

When he stands on this rooftop, the wind whipping his thinning hair, the city booming beneath his feet, he can still hear the applause of the young soldiers in that Nuremburg bunker, can feel the vibrations of their cheers in his chest, can see Master Man's eyes as he spoke of the difference between sheep and wolves.

At these times, Arik Schonbein is uneasy in his heart.

MARVEL FAN-MAIL