The Blackwood Estate - Underground Lab
"Move, Kerry!"
Ernst didn't wait for the butler.
He sprinted into the deepest level of the basement, clutching the glowing stasis sphere against his chest.
Azazel followed, looking grim.
Kerry stumbled in behind them, out of breath.
"Master Ernst? You called for the"
"Protocol Zero!" Ernst barked, his voice cracking with a panic Kerry had never heard before.
"Prep the Genesis Chamber. Now!"
Kerry froze.
"Protocol Zero? Sir, that equipment is obsolete. The metabolic rate is too slow compared to a natural womb, "
"Do it!" Ernst roared, his eyes flashing with psychic energy.
"Or I will tear this place apart!"
Kerry didn't argue.
He scrambled to the back of the lab, throwing switches.
A massive, cylindrical glass tank hummed to life, filling with nutrient-rich amniotic fluid.
Ernst carefully opened the stasis sphere.
With surgical precision, he transferred the tiny, fragile fetus into the tank.
He watched as the sensors beeped.
Heart rate: Critical... Stabilizing... Stable.
Ernst slumped against the glass, letting out a ragged breath.
He placed his hand on the cold surface, looking at the tiny life floating inside.
"You're safe," Ernst whispered.
"I've got you."
Kerry and Azazel stood in the back, silent.
They had never seen Ernst like this.
The cold, calculating scientist was gone, replaced by a terrified father.
"Master," Kerry said softly.
"Who did this?"
"The mother," Ernst said, his voice hardening back into steel.
"She chose her mission. I chose the child."
Hydra Base - One Month Later
Ernst played the part of the broken man perfectly.
He spent a month in the medical wing, refusing to speak, staring at the wall.
The doctors whispered that he was heartbroken over Natalia's betrayal.
It was a useful lie. It bought him time.
Every night, Azazel would teleport him back to London.
Ernst would spend hours just sitting by the tank, watching his child grow, tweaking the nutrient mix.
He felt a strange weight in his chest, responsibility.
He wasn't just surviving for himself anymore.
When Ernst finally "recovered," Schmidt wasted no time.
"The Serum is stalled," Schmidt said, pacing his office.
"Without the Phalanx, we are stuck. I have a new task for you."
He slammed a blueprint on the desk.
"The Valkyrie," Schmidt declared.
"Zola is building the frame, but I need you to design the payload. Tesseract-powered bombs. We will rain fire on New York."
Ernst looked at the plans. It was crude.
Using an Infinity Stone to make simple explosives was like using a nuclear reactor to toast bread.
"It is... ambitious," Ernst lied.
"Get to work," Schmidt ordered.
Weeks turned into months.
The Valkyrie took shape, a steel leviathan in the mountain.
But the war was going badly.
One afternoon, Schmidt returned alone from a supply run.
He was furious.
"Zola is gone," Schmidt snarled, throwing his gloves across the room.
"Captured. The Americans ambushed the train."
Ernst looked up from his schematic. Captain America.
The timeline was accelerating.
Zola's capture meant the Allies would soon know the location of the main base.
The end of Hydra was near.
'I need to check on my investment', Ernst thought.
That night, he summoned Azazel.
"Take me to the front lines," Ernst ordered.
"Find the Howling Commandos."
Allied Liberation Camp - Poland
The smell hit them first. Burning flesh and rot.
Ernst and Azazel appeared on a ridge overlooking a Hydra labor camp.
Down below, Steve Rogers, Captain America, walked through the gates.
But there were no cheers. No celebrations.
The camp was silent.
Hydra had liquidated the prisoners before retreating.
Bodies were piled in the courtyard like firewood.
Ernst watched through binoculars.
He saw Steve standing in the middle of the carnage. The Captain was shaking, his fists clenched so hard the leather of his gloves creaked.
"He is angry at himself" Azazel whispered.
"He is forging himself," Ernst corrected.
"Grief is the hottest fire."
Suddenly, Steve stopped.
He turned his head, looking up at the ridge, directly at where Ernst was hiding in the shadows.
Ernst stiffened. He sensed me.
The mental protocol Ernst had given him, the "Willpower fortification", had enhanced Steve's perception.
He could feel the gaze.
Before Steve could investigate, a sound broke the silence.
Waaah.
A baby's cry.
In the middle of the dead, a nurse emerged from a bunker, holding a bundle.
A survivor.
Steve's attention snapped back to the child.
He rushed over, his face softening from rage to relief.
A medic ran up to join him.
He was a handsome man in a British Army uniform, moving with a practiced, weary elegance.
"Let me see the child," the medic said, checking the baby's vitals with expert hands.
Ernst focused his binoculars on the doctor.
Dr. Henry Morgan.
Ernst smiled. He recognized the face.
In this universe, the immortal medical examiner from Forever was serving in WWII.
"Another anomaly," Ernst muttered.
"A man who cannot die, and a soldier who will not break."
He lowered the binoculars.
"Let's go, Azazel. The stage is set."
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