Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 288: Ch.287 Second Gen Zemo

The surrounding fires were too bright. As a spy-type synthetic being, he was designed to avoid such conspicuous places.

Taking a slight detour with his guards, he walked up to the door of Zemo\'s residence.

He handed the weapon and emblem to Zemo\'s son, Helmut Zemo, and, pretending to be deeply sorrowful, delivered the news.

"I\'m sorry, child. Your father, my friend, a great warrior of Hydra, has just fallen in battle."

Helmut accepted his father\'s sword without much surprise. Old Zemo had told him before that this was a world where life and death were constantly at odds.

It was just that this day had come sooner than expected, and his father wasn\'t as strong as he had imagined.

"So, Mr. Heine, who killed him?"

Young Zemo took the emblem, holding it tightly in his hand. Though he appeared calm, his heart was filled with grief. He knew he had lost his father and could no longer be a child.

From now on, he was Baron Zemo.

He would carry the family\'s legacy and take over his father\'s power, knowing that it would all come at a cost of blood.

However, the household had always been prepared for this, and he himself was ready.

Compared to his father, he was the real genius. His talents weren\'t in scientific research but in cybernetics, guerrilla warfare, and the philosophy of terror.

He could act like any other child, appearing innocent in daily life, making those who coveted the Zemo family\'s power underestimate him.

But when needed, he could take on greater responsibilities, and he would be even stronger than his father.

Of course, his weaknesses were also evident—aside from his mature mind, he had nothing else.

Heine knew this well. The second generation of Zemo would be a major enemy of the Avengers, and now he had brought this monster into existence sooner than history intended, only making him more formidable.

But for the time being, this little one wasn\'t a threat to him or the Supreme\'s plans.

"It was Captain America, Baron. On behalf of the Führer, I extend his heartfelt condolences and his hope that you will continue to serve Germany and Hydra."

"Of course, the Zemo family will always be loyal to the Führer." Young Zemo pinned the Hydra emblem onto his pajamas, his childish demeanor fading into a stern expression. "And Hail Hydra!"

Heine nodded with a smile. The wheel of history was turning again, following its usual course, though perhaps a bit faster this time. It was of no real consequence.

Whether Zemo\'s loyalty lay with the Führer or Hydra, what difference did it make to him? They were all just pawns in the hands of the Supreme One.

"Well, I\'ll take my leave then. I\'m sure you have many matters to attend to at home."

Heine tipped his hat and turned to go.

Zemo watched Heine\'s back fade into the distance. He drew his father\'s sword and examined it—there was no blood on it, no marks from clashing with other weapons.

He understood everything in an instant and closed the door without expression.

"Do you think I\'m a fool, Heine? You\'ll see just how terrifying it is to cross Zemo."

Zemo returned to his room without telling his mother about his father\'s death. Now, he was the head of the Zemo family, and his decisions were orders.

He removed his pajamas and took a uniform from his closet—the uniform of the Hitler Youth. He put it on, reattached the emblem and his weapon.

Next, he opened the door to his father\'s laboratory, retrieving a supply of adhesive and weapons, arming himself to the teeth.

Yet, due to his age, he appeared small and frail, lacking any real intimidation.

But that was an easy problem to fix. He found a piece of purple velvet cloth, cut two holes in it, and draped it over his head.

Now he looked just like his father.

He had completed all preparations. He needed to act quickly, before the news spread, to seize control of the power that had once belonged to his father, a task that would require many negotiations.

But he was confident in his victory; it was just a matter of time.

After that, he had a plan—a plan to find his father\'s true killer and avenge him.

With a sharp mind, there was no real difference between being seven or seventy. He just needed to achieve his goal before others realized that.

Heine, on the other hand, felt a sense of disappointment. The cunning Red Skull hadn\'t shown up on the battlefield. He had intercepted Zemo and Red Skull\'s communications, thinking this was a good chance to deal with Red Skull.

He had intended to swoop in after they dealt with Captain America, to take care of them both and secure the Tesseract for his great master.

But Red Skull was too devious—he had sent in a self-destructing clone instead.

And the opponent in battle wasn\'t actually Captain America but a mysterious figure wearing an alien symbiote—Deathstroke.

Things were becoming stranger and stranger, and Heine could only hold his nose and try to steer events back toward their historical course.

He didn\'t possess the powers of his master, and when it came to matters of time, he was even more fearful than ordinary mortals, dreading any mistake that might disrupt his master\'s plans.

The only thing he could do, besides following orders, was to try to align these events as closely with history as possible.

Historically, the first Baron Zemo should have been killed by Captain America three years from now, not this soon.

The second Zemo wasn\'t supposed to become his successor for more than a decade.

But he had no choice—he had to accelerate everything.

He knew Red Skull was hiding somewhere in Paris, but with the help of Doctor Zola, no one could find him. Nothing was going as smoothly as he\'d hoped.

Heine walked with his hands behind his back, strolling the streets with his personal guard, deciding to give things some thought.

The streets were filled with firelight and thick smoke, the acrid smell stinging his nostrils. He was growing weary of it all. He had rushed here from Berlin aboard a flying saucer, only to find nothing and now had to clean up the aftermath.

He had had enough. He decided to take a short break, perhaps a brief vacation in Italy.

Once Hydra fully withdrew from Paris and Su Ming had gathered all the fragments of Namor, Deathstroke would lose his drive and clues, making it impossible for him to hinder the Supreme\'s plans any further.

In another six months, Germany\'s factories would be fully upgraded. By then, with the Tesseract in hand, advanced weapons beyond the understanding of this era would roll off the production lines, aiding the great Supreme in conquering this timeline\'s world.

As he pondered the present and compared it to what he knew of history and the future, Heine felt mentally exhausted.

He was the loyal servant of the great Supreme, a sophisticated android, a tool built from synthetic proteins.

But he still enjoyed thinking.

It made him feel alive.

When he finally came to, he realized he had wandered into a very remote part of the city. The surrounding alleys were pitch black, and there wasn\'t a single soul in sight.

A sense of foreboding washed over him, and he felt a chill run through him.

His guards sensed it too, quickly surrounding Heine protectively.

"What\'s going on?"

Heine couldn\'t see any visible threat, but the feeling only grew stronger.

In the dark night, walking through the unlit streets, he naturally couldn\'t see what was hidden in the darkness. He had been designed to be almost indistinguishable from a human, sharing 99% of their traits.

Which was why his eyes couldn\'t see that something black, like a liquid creature, was flowing along the ground toward their feet.