"Dr. Ernst, I sincerely apologize," Schmidt said, his voice smooth but his eyes cold.
"My subordinates were disobedient. I assure you, the discipline I instilled in them will serve as a reminder to the rest of the base."
Ernst waved his hand dismissively, not looking up from his clipboard.
"No need for theatrics, General. People fear what they don't understand. It's a biological imperative."
He turned to Azazel, who was still feigning a cough.
"However, looking like a demon is inefficient for my bodyguard. Come, Azazel. Let's fix your... complexion."
Schmidt raised an eyebrow.
"You can fix genetics?"
"I can mask them," Ernst corrected.
"Come."
Schmidt followed them into the wet lab, intrigued.
He watched as Ernst filled a large industrial tub with water and poured in a beaker of viscous, amber liquid.
The water hissed, turning a milky white.
"Get in," Ernst ordered.
"Submerge completely. Three minutes. Don't breathe."
Azazel stripped down and slid into the tub, disappearing beneath the opaque surface.
"It's a dermal bonding agent," Ernst explained to Schmidt while checking his watch.
"It bonds with the epidermis and mimics the light-refracting properties of human melanin. It also acts as a lead shield of sorts, it will block the radiation glow I mentioned earlier."
Three minutes later, Ernst tapped the side of the tub.
"Up."
Azazel surfaced, gasping for air.
Schmidt's eyes widened. The guards by the door gasped.
The red skin was gone.
The tail was still there, but Azazel quickly wrapped it around his waist and tightened his belt, hiding it beneath his trousers.
Standing there, dripping wet, was a swarthy, dark-haired man who looked entirely human.
Even the blue glow was suppressed.
"Incredible," Schmidt whispered.
"He looks... Italian. Or Spanish."
"It infiltrates the keratin layer," Ernst noted clinically, handing Azazel a towel.
"It's not permanent. Azazel's metabolism is slow, so it will last about three months before the red pigment pushes back through. We'll need to reapply it quarterly."
Schmidt looked at Ernst with renewed respect.
"You continue to surprise me, Doctor. You turn monsters into men."
"I just understand the chemistry, General."
One Year Later - Winter 1945
The war was turning.
The atmosphere in the base had shifted from arrogant optimism to desperate frenzy.
The Allies had landed in Normandy.
The Eastern Front was collapsing. Supplies, coffee, fuel, high-grade steel, were becoming scarce.
Hitler was growing paranoid. He sent telegram after telegram demanding Ernst's return to Berlin.
He wanted "Wonder Weapons", jets, rockets, death rays.
But Schmidt refused. He hoarded Ernst like a dragon hoards gold.
The Super Soldier Serum was 98% complete, and Schmidt refused to let his prize scientist leave before he became a god.
Ernst, however, was done waiting.
He sat in his office, looking at the calendar.
The timeline was advancing.
He needed to be in London for the Aether research, and he needed to check on the CPH4 production.
Being stuck in the Alps was stifling his growth.
He picked up the phone and dialed the internal line.
"General Schmidt. We need to talk."
Schmidt's Office
"You want to leave?" Schmidt's voice was dangerously low.
"Now? When we are on the brink of success?"
"I am not abandoning the project," Ernst said calmly, sitting across from the Red Skull-to-be.
"I am going to get the final piece. My father, Sebastian Shaw, has acquired a stabilizer from the Japanese front. It's crucial for the serum's metabolic integration. He needs my help to synthesize it, and I need to retrieve it."
"Send a courier," Schmidt snapped.
"It's volatile," Ernst lied.
"Only I know how to transport it. Besides, Dr. Erskine has my notes. The formula is finished, Johann. All Erskine has to do is mix the chemicals. You don't need me for the cooking; you needed me for the recipe."
Schmidt stared at Ernst for a long time.
He needed the serum, but he also couldn't afford to alienate Ernst or Shaw.
The Hellfire Club's resources were keeping Hydra afloat financially.
"Fine," Schmidt relented.
"Go to your father. Get the stabilizer. But you return in one month."
Schmidt pressed a button on his desk.
"I will assign Squad Leader Kruger and his team to... escort you. For your safety, of course."
Ernst smiled thinly.
"Of course. I always appreciate the protection."
He knew exactly what Kruger's orders were: Watch him.
If he tries to run, break his legs and drag him back.
That night, the preparations began.
Ernst packed his briefcase.
But he had no intention of being shadowed by Hydra goons for a week.
"Is she here?" Ernst asked, looking at the empty corner of his room.
Azazel, now looking like a human bodyguard, nodded.
"She arrived an hour ago. Teleporting passengers is exhausting, but she is light."
From the shadows stepped a young woman.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, with platinum blonde hair and eyes that sparkled like diamonds.
She wore white, even in the grime of the Hydra base.
Emma Frost. The White Queen.
She was young in this timeline, barely twenty, but her power was already terrifying.
"This place is dreadful," Emma said, her voice like cut glass.
"The minds here are so... loud. So much fear. So much anger."
"Can you do it?" Ernst asked.
"Please," Emma scoffed.
"These are soldiers. Their minds are simple. Rigid. Easy to bend."
She walked over to the chair where Ernst usually sat.
She touched her temples, her eyes glowing with a faint psychic energy.
"I will plant a telepathic construct," Emma explained.
"A psychic loop. Whenever Schmidt or his guards look into this room, or look at the lab, they won't see an empty chair. They will see you. They will see Dr. Ernst, working hard, drinking coffee, writing notes."
"How long will it hold?"
"As long as I maintain the anchor," Emma said.
"I've linked it to their expectation. They expect to see you working, so they will. It's a self-fulfilling delusion."
"Perfect," Ernst said.
He turned to Azazel.
"We leave now. Schmidt thinks I'm leaving tomorrow morning with his escort. By the time he realizes the 'Ernst' in the car is an illusion, or that I never got in the car at all, we'll be in London."
Emma smiled, a predatory curl of her lips.
"Go on, Ernst. I'll keep the boys entertained."
Azazel grabbed Ernst's shoulder.
BAMF.
They vanished.
In the chair, empty space shimmered.
To the naked eye, it was empty.
But to anyone walking through that door, they would see Ernst Shaw, diligently working on the next stage of human evolution.
Ernst was already ten steps ahead.
He wasn't just escaping; he was leaving a ghost behind to do his homework.
——
Authors Note:
I have analyzed the physics of 'Writer Motivation.'
It turns out, my typing speed is directly correlated to the number of shiny blue rocks (Power Stones) in my inventory.
200 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter
10 reviews = 1 bonus Chapter