7: Choice and Resolution

John looked at the map in his hand, from Bressanone to the Austrian Alps, more precisely towards Salzburg. There were two possible routes to take.

The first option was to go through Vipiteno, following a route through Innsbruck. The problem was that this route was too close to Germany, and because of this, the concentration of the German army in that area was the largest near Italy.

A possibly more direct route was to go through Brunico, crossing the mountains on foot to Salzburg. The problem was the unexplored mountainous terrain; getting lost would be easy, not to mention the guerrilla warfare that was being waged there.

Whichever path he chose, he would encounter extreme violence, so he decided to take the fastest route.

"We'll go through Brunico," he pointed to the location on the map. Franco approached to look, both were in an improvised operations base created in one of the few houses still standing near Bressanone.

Franco looked at the map thoughtfully and nodded.

"In that area, there are still resistance teams sending signals. Brunico has been taken by the Nazi army, but with your help, maybe we can take it back."

If they could retake Brunico, then they would have a stronger foothold on the front line of the conflict. Whether it was Brunico or Vipiteno, both were located on direct routes to Bolzano. If they lost Bolzano, it was almost the same as losing northern Italy.

Nothing would prevent the German army from taking over the border between Austria and Italy if that happened.

.

Angelo reloaded his weapon, his hands trembling slightly but this time for very different reasons than before. Within him, there were many emotions. Since his home was destroyed and his family killed in the bombing that hit his town, Angelo had only felt a penetrating fury and fear inside him.

Since he first held a weapon and fired the first bullet, Angelo believed this world was hell. The only thing driving him was revenge. It was thanks to Franco that he began to see beyond that as time passed.

The man had hope, even being old and having lived through the horrors of war more than others. He believed Italy had a future, a future that would only come true if the fascist regime disappeared.

Angelo liked that, hope. His younger brother had it. He remembered how his eyes lit up reading those "Captain America" comics, one of the silly American propaganda, his father used to say. Propaganda or not, they were good comics, at least they were fun. Angelo never thought too much about them, even when people said Captain America really existed.

How was it possible? And if he did exist, where was he?

Taking cover behind a partially collapsed wall, amidst the explosions and the roar of gunfire behind him, Angelo couldn't help but look through the cracks. There he was, with that emblematic shield and his colorful uniform, facing directly those who had destroyed his home.

If his brother were alive, Angelo was sure he would be screaming with excitement right now.

Since he wasn't, then it was his place to do it for him.

"HAAAHHH!" he roared, his weapon ready, and alongside many others, he emerged from his cover, unleashing a rain of steel upon their enemies without hesitation.

The battle for Brunico had just begun, and they were already winning.

Captain America was the first to engage in combat, easily maneuvering through the enemy's hail of bullets, destroying their tanks with bare hands, and piercing through their hideouts without any obstacle.

He sent the German army into a massive panic that the Partisan resistance seized without hesitation.

Angelo fired; his shots, unlike many others, were precise. He hadn't received training, but his vision had always been keen, and his hands steady, which made him a quick learner once he joined the resistance. He fired each bullet as if it were his last, and almost always hit a secure target.

This made him the target of many German soldiers who had noticed how their comrades were falling because of him.

Even with Captain America being the center of attention, the Germans didn't forget about the resistance.

Angelo barely managed to take cover in time against the counterattack, crawling on the ground, careful of his movements. Nevertheless, the Germans had him in their sights without him realizing it. One managed to sneak through the smoke and dust unnoticed, reaching his side stealthily. Angelo only felt the rifle butt hitting him in the face, and then his head began to buzz.

His vision swirled, and he lost balance. He felt the man lunging at him, throwing them both to the ground and mounting him. Angelo tried to fight, but the disorientation from the initial blow made it difficult. The blows began to rain down on him, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was how he was going to die.

Then the air whistled, a shield sailed through the air until it collided with the man, sending his body flying dozens of meters and bouncing back in an instant. A hand reached out to catch it, and Angelo saw Captain America approaching, concern evident on his face.

"Are you okay, kid?" he stretched out his hand, and Angelo clumsily took it, his head still spinning. He was helped to his feet again, and unable to help himself, he asked a question.

"H-how did you do that?" he said, looking at the shield, which now had a slight dent.

"Math, son," the captain said simply, and he led him to cover, dodging a hail of bullets coming their way.

"Can you keep fighting?" he asked, and Angelo nodded, even as his head throbbed and the taste of blood flooded his mouth.

"Until the end, sir," he held his weapon firmly, and the captain smiled, patting his back.

"Then follow me."

.

Carlo removed the safety pin from the grenade and without hesitation, threw it at a group of German soldiers approaching from his left flank. The explosion that followed made his ears ring, but with no time to pay attention to such things, he kept advancing with his weapon ready.

His aim might not have been the best, but when your enemies run around like headless chickens, you don't need to be a sharpshooter.

He saw the man who called himself Captain America ramming into one of the German armored vehicles with his shoulder alone. The immensely large and heavy vehicle was overturned easily, and the man dispatched its occupants effortlessly. Then, he threw his shield, hitting a soldier with a machine gun and preventing the bullets from reaching other nearby resistance members. It all happened so quickly and smoothly that it was almost unreal. Even though he had seen him in action several times before, it never ceased to amaze him.

Young Angelo had told them about Captain America during their journey to Brunico, about the American super soldier project, and how he was the only superhuman who had managed to see the light.

Many of the stories sounded like fantasy, but when you experienced firsthand the kind of strength the man possessed, then anything became believable and unquestionable.

The man didn't need weapons because he was one himself.

And he was on their side. That fact alone sent waves of confidence through all the resistance men. No matter that the German soldiers outnumbered them; when the super soldier was on your side, any obstacle could be overcome.

For the first time in a long time, Carlo had hope. Hope of seeing his family again, of seeing the future he wanted for his children with his own eyes. So, without hesitation, he reloaded his weapon once more and kept firing.

.

Ugo chewed on the tobacco in his mouth and aimed without hesitation at the head of one of the German snipers. He waited for the opportune moment and fired a precise shot that made his head gain a new hole and his body begin to collapse, then he ran.

He navigated through the war-torn buildings in Brunico. They had ventured further into the city, gaining more ground with each passing hour the battle raged on. Reinforcements had begun to arrive from the Partisan resistance thanks to Bruno's call.

Ugo was one of them. When the news that the Germans had been successfully repelled from Bressanone reached the ears of the resistance, many couldn't believe it. Bressanone had already been given up for lost; the Allied army wouldn't arrive in time to help, and the Germans outnumbered the men stationed there.

How did they win?

When the name "Captain America" began to spread, many mocked it as a bad joke. Still, it was undeniable that the Germans were retreating, so several groups were sent to verify what was happening.

Reality sometimes surpasses fiction, and to everyone's amazement, there really was a "Captain America" kicking Nazi ass. All the way to Brunico, the resistance soldiers witnessed his exploits, reporting the events to other teams that were already rushing to the border, even attracting the attention of some nearby war journalists.

After all, this was the greatest opportunity they had to reclaim the territory they had lost against the Germans.

Ugo slid behind an overturned vehicle, watching a group of Nazi soldiers running towards the main fray. He aimed carefully, as he had done many times before, but the sound of a crow cawing too close to his ear made him turn, only to see a German soldier aiming at him from behind. His pupils shrank, and as quickly as he could, he rolled on the ground, narrowly dodging a bullet that would have blown his brains out.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

He lifted his rifle and fired without hesitation, killing the enemy and starting to run. Surely, the other German soldiers had heard the shots; he needed a new hiding spot.

Ugo wasn't the only one. An event that would become a supernatural legend took place that day in the battle for Brunico. Future generations would recount how the crow's cawing could be heard whenever danger was near.

Soldiers would tell their children, and their children would tell their grandchildren how they were mysteriously saved by a dark bird that appeared out of nowhere to warn them of danger. And the legend would spread throughout the nearby cities and towns.

.

John gripped the Nazi soldier by the neck, feeling the bones break with a simple squeeze as the man lost all his strength.

He threw him to the ground and looked at the corpse for a moment.

Killing. Killing was strange. From the moment he left the base until he entered the active war zones, he had killed so many people that remembering the number would be difficult for others, not for him. He could remember each of their faces.

It wasn't pleasant. He wondered if he would have nightmares. He never expected something like this to affect him, but it seemed much more significant than he thought before. He didn't want to dwell on it too much, so he forced himself to snap out of his thoughts and pay more attention to his surroundings.

He heard the din of battle in the distance beginning to diminish. The Germans had no choice but to start their retreat towards Sand in Taufers, where their main base was stationed, the Tures Castle.

The ancient medieval fortress was now the last stronghold of the German army.

Once they managed to take it, John could head towards The Northernmost point of Italy, also known as Vetta d'Italia (Glockenkarkopf). Once there, he would only have to cross the border into the Venediger Alps. John had decided to take the most direct route, so he would have to cross the fourth highest mountain in Austria: Großvenediger.

He had heard of it in his previous life and never thought he would one day see it in person.

After that, he would have to make his way on his own to Salzburg. If he wanted to be literally direct, he would even have to pass through part of Germany.

He wondered how the hell the original Captain America crossed all this back with all the captured soldiers or at least most of them.

John wasn't just using the Partisan resistance to make the journey lighter; he also needed a support point to return to as soon as possible from Austria.

He didn't believe that the soldiers who had been forced to work as slaves could withstand a direct journey through an entire active war zone.

And he didn't plan to just rescue the 107th; since he was here, he was going to liberate as many as he could. There were many more bases with captured men, after all.

Once that was done, he would have a greater voice and vote, and then he would lead the front of the war against Germany. A part of Austria would be greatly affected, but that was okay; something always had to be sacrificed to gain something more.

He might even raid other battlefields. Who knows, if he had time, he might decide to liberate France himself, only if there was time. He still didn't know how difficult it would be to deal with Hydra after all.

As he thought about all this and was "distracted," he heard footsteps approaching from his "blind spot." John had intentionally distanced himself from the resistance to have a moment alone; it seemed like an enemy soldier wanted to take advantage of that.

He prepared to dispatch the German soldier for having too many balls to approach him alone, but before he could do so, a figure fell from the sky, pushing the soldier to the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him and leave him writhing on the ground.

John furrowed his eyebrows tightly at the familiar figure that was the blue-skinned girl.

Raven skillfully removed the soldier's weapon as if she had done it many times before and delivered another blow, causing the German soldier to groan. Then she looked at him nervously, almost bowing her head.

"I-I know what you're going to say, but I'm like you! You said it yourself, I'm a metahuman, a super soldier... I can help!" Raven said, looking at him nervously. She had acted without thinking, or rather thinking that if John saw that she was actually useful, then he wouldn't send her back.

She didn't know how to fight, or at least she shouldn't have, but her powers came with many more advantages than she initially believed. Muscle memory was one of them. She had copied the physique of that military woman she had seen with John at the base before he left, and it was as if her body knew how to move on its own, acting automatically and guiding her in her movements when facing others. Just like when she copied the body of one of the dancers accompanying John, and she instinctively knew she could dance just like her.

With this discovery, she believed that if she "saved" him, then he couldn't refuse. That's why, unlike before, she hadn't made a sound to attract attention, and instead had acted directly to show that she was "capable."

"Then kill him," John's words were cold, sending a shiver down Raven's spine. She opened her eyes and took a few steps back, looking at the soldier on the ground in panic.

Incapacitating was one thing, but killing? She had never done that before.

"I-I..." Raven stammered.

John sighed; the war was affecting him more than he had expected. He scratched his head and spoke in a softer tone.

"Listen, Raven, wanting to help is good, but war isn't just about helping. To win a war, you must be willing to get your hands dirty, to do what's necessary to ensure the well-being and safety of those who can't fight for themselves, even if it's unpleasant. These men..." He glanced at the soldier who was struggling to get up.

He did nothing to stop him; in fact, he pushed Raven aside and let her see, along with him, as the man stood up and pulled out a knife hidden in his chest.

The man looked at them with fury and disgust, a disgust that Raven could feel more directly directed towards her.

"Aberrations!" he growled in German, and although Raven couldn't understand the word, she could sense the underlying meaning. It was one she had felt when her father had chased her with a gun in hand, ready to kill her.

It was disgust.

The man ran towards them with blind rage. John simply stepped forward and grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife. The man tried to fight back, but he couldn't break free from John's grip.

"They won't hesitate to kill you," John concluded his words and tightened his grip slightly. The sound of bones crunching made Raven tremble slightly. She had seen a lot of violence and destruction since she had secretly followed John, but one thing was to see it through the eyes of a bird, and another was to witness it directly with her own eyes. It was a very different feeling that hit her hard.

"And you shouldn't hesitate to do the same with them. So if you're not willing to do what's necessary, then you're not cut out for this war... back to the base, Raven." John didn't kill the man because he was more useful alive than dead; he would let the resistance take care of him and extract all the information they could.

He let the man fall to his knees, and with a simple stomp, he broke the man's left leg, then turned around ready to clear the battlefield and secure Brunico.

Perhaps his words had been harsh, but he believed they were necessary. Raven was still just a young woman; if she couldn't make tough decisions, then the path ahead would only be torture for her mind.

He heard the man screaming behind him, but he didn't care, at least not until it abruptly stopped when a thunderous sound was heard, the sound of a gun being fired.

John stopped and turned, only to see Raven holding the soldier's gun with trembling hands and the lifeless man on the ground with a hole in his head.

John's pupils briefly contracted at the sight.

"I can help," Raven gritted her teeth, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she held them back, her voice was trembling but firm at the same time.

She had seen death, she had saved many resistance soldiers, and witnessed the horrors that Nazi soldiers were carrying out. After seeing all that, after witnessing war, how could she go back and simply leave? She was still young, and just a few days ago she thought her life would be nothing more than ordinary. But now everything was different, she was different.

When she found John and heard his explanation about the origin of her changes, somehow she knew that her destiny was tied to something greater, that she could do much more significant things than she had believed possible.

That's why she had to follow him, that's why she had to be by his side. She couldn't change the world like he could if she simply stayed behind and did nothing. Somehow, she knew she had to fight, or she would regret it in the future, because deep inside her, she knew that this war was also hers.

John approached her and slowly took the gun from her trembling hands. Then he gave her a gentle hug, letting her cry into his hands, patting her back softly.

She broke down, but quickly regained control, and still firmly looked at him, her hands trembling less than before.

Seeing the determination in her eyes, John licked his dry lips and made a decision.

"Alright, but you must remember the rules," he said, and Raven knew what he meant.

She smiled, though it was a strange smile, quickly nodding and wiping her face.

"Quick, you need to change; people are approaching," John whispered, and she quickly adopted the "disguise" she had used at the base. John frowned at her appearance and shook his head, speaking quickly.

"You must wear something different." There were people among the resistance with cameras, probably war journalists trying to capture images for posterity and document the progress of the war. If she went out with this appearance, some people from the base where she had last performed might recognize her when the images were published in the newspapers.

It would be difficult to explain why a civilian was with him. Besides, this was also an opportunity to give Raven a more "solid" identity.

Raven furrowed her brow slightly and began to change again quickly, this time becoming a perfect copy of Peggy. Before John could say anything, she started making further changes, using Agent Carter as a base.

Her long red hair was replaced by short ash-blonde hair that reached her shoulders, her eyes became slightly sharper and black in color, her nose smaller, and her face slimmer. She looked similar but different, still having a military appearance, like a woman you would see in the army without a doubt. Additionally, her clothing changed to a nondescript military suit, similar to what most soldiers of the Allied forces wore but slightly different, making it difficult to determine which army she belonged to.

"That'll work." Without hesitation, he grabbed some dirt and ashes from the ground and threw them at her face.

"Hey!" she spluttered.

"This is war; you're too clean," he said. She looked at him with furrowed brows but understood the message and altered her appearance a bit more, this time adding some "dirt and rips" to her attire.

John nodded and turned to the left. From a corner, he saw Franco emerging with some of his men, all wearing broad smiles.

"Captain! The German army has started to retreat. I've had my men start fortifying the place. Shall we continue to advance?" Franco's respect, and that of all the other members of the resistance, towards John was immense. Unconsciously, they all treated him as the superior in charge.

"No, fighting without rest will only weaken us. Before we proceed, we need to replenish our strength and wait for reinforcements. If we want to successfully take the castle of Tures, we need to be at our best." Moving quickly was fine, but moving recklessly could get them all killed. John needed most of them to come out alive, or this wouldn't be the resounding success he hoped it would be.

In response to his words, Franco ordered his men to start clearing the area and prepare to spend the night. It was then that he looked at Raven and asked.

"Who is she?" In response to his question, John replied, already having thought up an excuse.

"She's Raven Morgan. She's a volunteer ambulance driver who was captured by the Germans when the Allied army was defeated. I found her while clearing out this place."

Franco understood. He had heard of the VAS (Voluntary Ambulance Service). Their help had been greatly appreciated when the invasion of Italy had begun. They weren't soldiers strictly speaking, but their work was much more important. Without them, many good men would have died.

"Pleasure to meet you, young lady," Franco greeted with respect, knowing that the lives of some of his friends had been saved thanks to the VAS in the past.

Raven couldn't speak Italian, so she couldn't understand what was said and could only awkwardly smile and return a greeting.

"Excuse her, she doesn't speak Italian very well," John apologized, and Franco nodded, not surprised. Many fought in Italy without knowing the language; in war, words mattered less than bullets.

"Let's go, we still have to clean up this place," John said, taking the weapon from the dead soldier. He looked at it for a moment before handing it back to Raven, who took it automatically, demonstrating a proficiency she shouldn't have had with firearms. Clearly, it came from mimicking Peggy's body.

Franco raised an eyebrow at seeing the weapon in Raven's hands, and John clarified.

"Now she's a soldier under my command. She'll follow us in our campaign to the border," and probably beyond. Since she had decided to participate, John would make the best use of her help unless she regretted it. If she chose to withdraw, he wouldn't stop her.

Franco didn't question John's decision. Many of his men had also been civilians who had chosen to carry weapons, and there were even some women among the ranks of other resistance teams. In times of war, whether woman, child, or man, anyone who could carry and shoot a weapon was welcome.

Perhaps the direct army wouldn't fully agree, but nobody was asking them.

Soon, the three joined the resistance army, and preparations for the night began. After all, there were still long battles ahead.

.

.

.