The Alps
Azazel laid out a white tablecloth on the rough stone floor of the cave.
He pulled a hot meal, steaks and red wine, from his pocket dimension.
"Dr. Ernst," Azazel asked, pouring the wine.
"Why the theatrics? We could have teleported to the London estate instantly. Why drive through an avalanche just to hide in a cave?"
Ernst took a sip, savoring the vintage.
"Because, my friend, we are not defecting. Not yet. We are survivors."
He gestured to the radio transmitter Azazel had set up.
"If I vanish, Hitler thinks I betrayed him or died. But if I 'narrowly escape' the American siege and call for extraction? I am a hero. A loyal asset."
"You want to go back to Berlin?" Azazel looked confused.
"The war is lost."
"The war is lost," Ernst agreed.
"But the resources are not. Hitler is desperate. And desperate men open their vaults. There is one last project I want to see. Something... occult."
He picked up the transmitter handset.
"Get me Berlin."
The Fuhrerbunker - Berlin
Adolf Hitler stared at the map. The lines were shrinking.
The Red Skull was gone. The Valkyrie was lost.
Then, a frantic aide entered.
"Mein Führer! A transmission from the Alps. It is Dr. Ernst! He escaped the siege!"
Hitler's eyes lit up. The genius was alive.
"Put him through," Hitler ordered.
After a brief exchange confirming Ernst's coordinates, Hitler turned to the shadowed corner of his office.
"Gregory," Hitler whispered.
"The science division failed. Red Skull failed. But Ernst... he can bridge the gap."
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
He was tall, gaunt, with a long beard and eyes that seemed to hold the void.
Grigori Rasputin.
"The machine sleeps," Rasputin intoned, his voice like grinding stones.
"The portal to the Ogdru Jahad requires precise energy modulation. My magic is strong, but the technology... it is crude."
"Ernst can fix it," Hitler insisted.
"He built the Tesseract weapons. He can build your gateway."
Rasputin considered this.
"Perhaps. A man of science who understands the infinite..."
"Go to him," Hitler commanded.
"Bring him here. Secure the asset."
Hitler pressed a button on his desk.
"And take insurance."
A side door opened. A man in a black SS uniform walked in.
He wore a gas mask that hissed with every breath.
He moved with a jerky, mechanical precision.
Karl Ruprecht Kroenen.
Hitler's top assassin.
A man who had surgically removed his own eyelids and lips, living only for the kill.
"Kroenen will ensure Dr. Ernst arrives safely," Hitler said.
Rasputin nodded.
"Very well. We begin Project Ragna Rok."
While waiting for extraction, Ernst checked his watch.
"We have a few hours before the Germans arrive," Ernst said.
"Azazel, take me to the coordinates of the Valkyrie. I need to check on my guinea pig."
Azazel nodded. He grabbed Ernst's shoulder.
BAMF.
The Crash Site - The Arctic
They appeared in freezing darkness.
They were inside the fuselage of the massive bomber, now buried deep under the Arctic ice shelf.
The air was stale and frigid.
Azazel summoned a glow-lamp from his dimension.
The light revealed the wreckage.
Lying on the deck, half-encased in ice, was the Vibranium shield.
"The metal of the gods," Azazel whispered, reaching for it.
"Leave it," Ernst ordered.
"Sir? It is priceless."
"It is a symbol," Ernst said.
"And it is imprinted. Look."
Ernst pointed to the shield.
To his enhanced eyes, the metal hummed with a faint, golden psychic residue.
Steve Rogers had poured so much will into the object that it was practically a part of his soul.
"Besides," Ernst sneered,
"I know where it comes from. Wakanda. Once this war is over, we will go there."
He walked past the shield to the cockpit.
There, frozen in a block of ice, was Captain America.
Steve's eyes were closed. He looked peaceful.
Ernst placed his hand on the ice.
He extended his mental senses.
Thump... Thump...
The heart was beating once every minute.
But the mind? The mind was blazing.
"Fascinating," Ernst breathed.
The mental technique he had taught Steve, the 'Willpower Fortification technique', was still running.
Even in hibernation, Steve's subconscious was cycling the energy, reinforcing his mind, hardening his will.
To Ernst's psychic vision, Steve wasn't a frozen soldier; he was a miniature sun, radiating warmth and resolve.
"He is training," Ernst realized.
"He is spending seventy years in a psychic dojo. When he wakes up, his will is going to be very strong."
"Is he dangerous?" Azazel asked, hand on his sword.
"Extremely," Ernst smiled.
"But not to us. Not yet. Let him sleep. The world needs heroes... eventually."
-----
Authors Note:
"Ernst: 'I'll just teach Steve a little mental trick to help with the pain.'
Steve: [Proceeds to mentally bench press the concept of Liberty for 70 years]
Basically, Ernst just turned Captain America into a Shonen anime protagonist who trains in a time chamber.
Azazel: "Can I take the shield?"
Ernst: "No."
Azazel: "But it's shiny."
Ernst: "We are going to Wakanda later. They have a gift shop."
Azazel: "Fine. But I'm taking the pilot's wallet."