#5 Written by J Hammond Edited by Bob Gansler

Cast of Characters

Previously

Captain America ('Steve Rogers')  A man who grew up idolizng the original super-patriot. Due to a mistake on his part when he took the Super-Soldier seru, his mind has become affected, making him a racist madman. Bucky (Jack Monroe)  A young boy who idolized the first Captain America. He took the impure Super-Soldier serum and became a new Bucky. His mind has become affected by the serum, making him a racist.

Cap finally deduced the identity of the African American and paid him a visit. As Steve Rogers, he had his first post-ice date with Marie Whitford. Despite his nervousness, Steve and Marie spent the night together…

Captain America and Bucky walked down the hallway to FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover’s office. Cap had had to cancel all of his classes for the day just to meet with Hoover, and it was beginning to irritate him. Hoover had insisted on getting him the job at the college, encouraged him to return to teaching…so why did he keep calling him away from his classes, making him cancel sessions? It annoyed him to no end. Bucky reached the office first and raised his hand to knock. Cap reached past his partner, opened the door and walked in. Hoover sat behind his desk, a look of surprise on his face. He quickly hung up the phone and motioned for the patriotic duo to sit down. Cap remained standing.

"Captain…I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you here so early…" Hoover stammered, trying to ignore the icy glares from Captain America.

"Actually, Edgar, I couldn’t care less. Do you realize that this is the third time this week you’ve made me cancel classes and pulled Jack from school? I have a responsibility to my students and I can’t fulfil those responsibilities if you keep calling me in all of the time. And Jack…I’m lucky that the school hasn’t hauled my butt into court over his absences!"

Hoover lit a cigarette, hoping it would calm his nerves a bit or, at the very least, hide his nervousness. "So…what are you saying, exactly, Captain?"

"It’s obvious you and your organization have come to depend on me, but my students depend on me as well. After this semester is through, I may hand in my resignation to the college. It isn’t fair to my students to be called out of class so much. I’m paid to teach them and I can’t do that if you keeping pulling me out of classes."

"I wanna quit school, too!" Bucky chimed in, leaping to his feet. Cap shook his head.

"No, Jack. You’re still a boy. You need your education."

Bucky sat back down, dejected and muttering under his breath. Hoover slid an envelope to the front of his desk. Cap picked it up and opened its contents into his hands.

"These are plane tickets to New York City."

"Exactly," Hoover replied. "There’s been some mighty strange murders occurring there lately. We want the two of you to investigate."

Bucky smiled. "I always did like the City."

The African American stood with his back to the wall, his shield raised and his fists clenched. Four men, armed with various weapons, converged on him.

"We’re getting’ sick of you buttin’ your nose inta our bizness around here! The Jaguars rule this neighborhood, longjohns! We don take kindly to phony baloney Cap’n Americas getting’ in our way!"

The largest man, the one who was doing all of the talking, swung the chain he was carrying. The African ducked, the chain narrowly missing his head by a margin of just a few inches. He quickly spun out of his crouch, connecting in each of his attackers’ faces with a shield roundhouse. The blow staggered his opponents and he took the opportunity to vault over his foes. Clearing the cobwebs from their heads, the Jaguars gave chase to the African American, pursuing him down a long alleyway. They spotted him quickly. He had knocked over several garbage cans, hoping to slow them down. The Jaguars laughed at their quarry’s futile attempt to buy himself some time.

The African American ran at his top speed. He was none too happy that it looked like he was running away from a fight with those toughs, but it was all part of his plan. He came out of the alley and found himself in front of a large warehouse. Looking behind him one last time to make sure the Jaguars were still in pursuit, he went inside, making sure to leave the door open.

The Jaguars all exited the alleyway and began looking around for the African American. After a few moments, one of them finally noticed the open warehouse doorways and alerted his fellows. The Jaguars all ran inside.

Captain America and Bucky walked into the forty-ninth precinct of the New York City Police Department. The officers in attendance drew into a hush, pointing and whispering. Could that really be Captain America and Bucky, the patriotic heroes of countless battles in the Second World War? Officers came out of various parts of the station to catch a glimpse of the star-spangled duo. Cap walked up to the main desk with Bucky following close behind him. Cap produced an envelope from his glove and handed it to the officer manning the desk, a red haired, freckle faced boy in his mid twenties. ‘Probably a potato eating Mick’ Cap thought.

"Our help was requested on a murder investigation you people have going. Who do I speak to to get a briefing?"

The officer was clearly in awe of the Sentinel of Liberty. Cap smiled smugly.

"Um…Detective Brown…" the cop stammered as he pointed to an office at the far end of the precinct. "…Right through that door, Captain."

Cap and Bucky nodded and turned briskly. Heading to the indicated office. Cap opened the door, not even bothering to knock. He handed the envelope to the middle aged man behind the desk and stood, arms folded across his chest.

"I’m glad you could make it so quickly, Captain. I’ll just get to brass tacks here. There’s been a sudden rash of murders in the warehouse district as of late. No big deal in this city, true enough. The thing is, these murders are strange. Very strange."

Bucky flopped down in one of the chairs in front of Brown’s desk, reclining with his feet propped up on the detective’s desk.

"Strange? How so? Somebody kill a few whites along with the usual niggers?"

Brown shot a quick look at Bucky, the disapproval of his comment evident on his face. He shot a quick glance at the Captain, hoping to gauge Cap’s response to his young partner’s remarks. All he saw was an all business, no nonsense look on the Patriotic Dynamo’s face.

"Well…to make a long story short…all of the victims were found drained of blood with two tiny puncture marks on their necks."

"Are you trying to tell us it’s vampires?" Cap sighed. "Give me a break, Detective."

"Vampires?" Bucky exclaimed as he leapt from his seat. "Keen! I’ve seen all the movies! I know everything there is to know about vampires!"

Cap shot his protégé a stern look. He’d have to have himself a little talk with Jack about his late night film interests.

"Actually, Captain…we are suspecting some sort of vampire activity. Maybe not a real, honest to god vampire. Maybe just someone who is delusional to the point that the believe they’re a vampire."

Cap rolled his eyes. How could the detective be so stupid? Vampires didn’t exist, plain and simple. It was probably some Commie nut trying to terrorize the City. Whatever it was, he’d find out and stop it, once and for all.

"Let’s go check out your latest crime scene then, Detective."

The Jaguars scanned the warehouse, hoping to spot their prey, the African American. There was a loud thud in the distance and they began to head in the direction the sound came from. The warehouse was dark; most of the windows were boarded up.

One of the Jaguars saw a stairwell leading up to a catwalk high above the ground level. He motioned to his friends and headed up the stairs. He tried to walk quietly, but his large boots made that a difficult feat indeed. Spotting some movement ahead of him, he began to dart in its direction, his hands clenched tightly around a Louisville Slugger. The tough continued walking into the dark corner of the catwalk where he’d thought he’d seen his target. It was so dark he didn’t even see the African American’s feet slamming into his face. The Jaguar member flew through the air and crashed onto the catwalk, unconscious, near the stairs he’d come up on.

The African American darted across the catwalk, making sure to keep the other Jaguars in his sight at all times. The Jaguars had decided to split up now, figuring they’d have a better chance of finding their opponent if they covered more ground in a short amount of time. A Jaguar, armed with a long, thick chain, crept down an alley formed by the stacks of crates. It was extremely dark and the little light there was in the warehouse was throwing shadows everywhere. He couldn’t tell which of the shadows were his and which ones weren’t. He’d begun contemplating a particular shadow when the crates toppled down on him, rendering him unconscious.

The African American leapt from the tower of crates he’d pushed over and grabbed a pulley chain, using it to swing himself back up onto the catwalk. The other two Jaguars cam running, having heard the commotion caused by the falling crates. They found their fellow, sprawled out, unconscious amidst the broken crates. They began to look around, certain that their foe was in the immediate area. Suddenly, one of the Jaguars was knocked off his feet, the African American’s shield rebounding off his forehead. The last Jaguar was also removed from his vertical base when the African American tackled him. A few swift punches and the Jaguar joined his friends in the realm of unconsciousness.

The African American picked up his shield and strapped it onto his arm and turned to the sound of clapping. J. Edgar Hoover, flanked by several of his FBI agents, entered the warehouse.

"You must be the African American. I’ve heard so much about you, son. How’d you like to do me a bit of a favor?"

The African American scanned the warehouse for possible escape routes. Hoover’s men were at every exit. He was trapped. As good as the African American was, he knew he couldn’t take out a platoon of FBI agents. It was obvious Hoover really wanted him …but for what?

"OK, Mr. Hoover…what do you have in mind?"

Captain America stepped over another body. He and Bucky had accompanied Detective Brown to the Frist Towers office building. It was common knowledge that Frist was a mobster but there wasn’t ever enough evidence to ever implicate him or his associates. Not that it really mattered much now. Frist and twenty of his best thugs were now dead, drained of blood and battered. Whoever had done this had been brutal to his victims. Bucky pulled back Frist’s hair to reveal the puncture wounds on the man’s neck.

"Gosh, Cap. Do you think it really could be a vampire? I mean…look at this!"

Cap sighed. Even his partner was buying into this vampire nonsense. Cap shook his head in annoyance, yet crossed the room to examine Frist’s body as Bucky had asked. The Sentinel of Liberty knelt down and looked at the wounds. They certainly looked real. Could he be mistaken about the possibility of vampires? Cap shook his head again. Now he was beginning to believe this rubbish!

A dark form observed Captain America and Bucky’s investigation of the gangland murders.

"So, my old foes, you have survived Zemo’s attacks. Now I may claim the title of murderer of Captain America!"