Felicia Hardy, also known as Black Cat, ran through the streets, holding her side. The damn Doom Patrollers had finally caught up to her, and as they fired their guns one stupid punk kid had caught her between the thick armour plates and hit something important.

She knew it was important, blood didn’t flow that fast from a flesh wound, nor did the weakness she felt in her legs come from a minor injury. But her life and the lives of the men that had been with her weren't important. Getting the tablet and its contents to the resistance was worth any amount of lives.

As she collapsed against the side of the building, it looked like an abandoned warehouse, the squad pulled up and exited their ATV.

“We found her Ma’am,” the officer, decked in black body armour, with green trim and a stylized helmet, said into his radio.

“Hold her, ETA Five minutes.” and the squad took up positions around her, keeping their guns trained on her.

“Move and we fire. Our orders are to contain you, but we will take action if you try anything.”

Felicia was too hurt to even move, and weakly held up a bloody hand in surrender. As she closed her eyes the five minutes passed quickly, and soon a rough hand slapped her awake.

“Mayor Osborn personally ordered your execution Black Cat. You should be honoured,“ said a strangely familiar voice, and as Felicia opened her eyes, the blue eyes of Gwendoline Stacy looked right at her. 

She had changed since Information Camp, the once long flowing blonde hair was buzzed short, and one eye had paled into uselessness as a scar crossed over it.

“You led us on a chase though, all for what? This?” and she pulled at Felicia's side, taking out the data slate, with information concerning Grand Central Holding Facility. Captain Stacy didn’t care though, as long as she caught the subject, she would be rewarded. She didn’t even have to bring her in alive. They had resistance members before, and they never talked, never broke. No matter what you did to them, rape, torture, surgery, none of it broke them, easier just to kill them than waste your time. Captain Stacy had even heard a rumour circulate, mainly through the top brass, that some higher agents had booby traps tied to their heartbeats, or set to go off if exposed to the air, like during an autopsy. It was all hearsay though, and Gwendoline hated hearsay. She did love this part though.

“Good-Bye,” and Felicia never felt the blade as it slid across her throat, all she felt was the warm flow and the difficulty in drawing breath. As Gwendoline watched her slide down the wall, she frowned at a sudden thought.

Leaning forwards she pulled the patchwork mask off and froze as she recognised the woman she once called friend.

As the drizzle of rain began he remembered the times they shared, the stolen glances, leading to more, and her eventual imprisonment and reeducation after their tryst had been discovered. 

As the rain wet her face she lifted a hand, and hidden by the rain, she wiped away the tears in her eyes,

Strange, she thought to herself, all for a woman, and as she stood she brushed down her uniform, no matter. One less rebel to deal with, and one less problem for New Doomsberg.

Motioning to her driver, they opened the door and Gwendoline sat in the back seat, “Take me back to HQ and take that with us,” she said, motioning at the corpse. “The Mayor will be pleased.”

“Ma’am, we’re receiving reports from a patrol that an unregistered mutant has been found.” and the radio operator touched the side of their head again, listening, “Bleecker Street. She already assaulted the Doombot, and has so far resisted attempts to capture her.”

Gwen sighed, another fucking mutant, “Fine, take us there.” Goddam mutant freaks. They should know by now that using their powers in the street was summary execution, and that life in the military wasn’t so bad. Gwendoline herself made sure the flyers and rewards for the information leading to the capture and enrollment of any powered individual would set up a low-grade citizen for life but still, they refused to listen. 

Her father was right, those on the bottom always get jealous of those who work hard and earn their way to the top. Gwendoline had personally beaten every cadet at the Doom-Minion academy to get her posting, even her father’s position as Chief Interrogator had no bearing on her achievements. Some people though wanted to cheat, wanted to game the system and simply coast along on borrowed power.

Gwendoline snorted, mutants, powerful inhuman freaks gifted from birth by a special gene, their X-Gene. It didn’t matter that the same gene caused horrifying physical mutation or deadly powers, all they cared about was they had power and normal everyday people like her and ninety-nine per cent of the world didn’t.

Even their Anti-Mutant Taskforce was stretched to the limit, and Doombots were useless. They could report a mutant but most could simply destroy them and escape,

Which was what had Gwendoline confused, why was this mutant still at the same location? Why was she resisting and not escaping? She would find out though, and maybe this would earn her her colonel stripes.

As the armoured truck drove down the streets of New Doomsberg, renamed after Viktor’s father took control, she saw the crowds of people. She sneered and shook her head. It was ration day, and the crowds would be out to gain their weekly stipend of food. President Doom ordered that rationing be continued after the war. The United Russian Federation had continued its offensive, even after the nazis had been beaten, and the renewed war effort took most of the money and land.

As the crowds thinned, Gwendoline saw the mutant they were after, and the street was strewn with wreckage. Several of the giant humanoid Doombots had been torn to pieces by the woman, tall, slender but well endowed. She felt a familiar tingle and shook her head to push it to one side. This is work, and she’s a damn mutant, she thought to herself, ignoring the attraction,

“Men, tranq rounds, if she’s powerful enough to take out bots, then we need to take her for examination. No one uses live rounds unless I order it,” and while her men loaded a blue clip into the guns, she purposefully loaded a red lined clip into hers. President Doom had created a gaseous anti-mutant formula, strong enough that when any mutant breathed it in, it stunned them momentarily and stopped them using their powers.

As the van pulled up, Gwendoline kept her eyes on the target, noticing the red energy surrounding her hands, damn she thought, a freaking blaster. Hopefully, she wouldn’t kill too many of her men before they took her down, she hated being made to look bad, especially as she had already taken care of one criminal today.

“By the book, odds first, then evens, I’ll deploy once we see what her capabilities-” but she was interrupted as the top of the armoured car was ripped off, the red energy of the women surrounding it.

As the reinforced steel buckled and squealed Gwendoline shouted, “weapons-free, fire at will,” and her men all dived for cover before raising their stun guns at the woman.

Gwendonile herself moved behind a parked car, ducking along the side of the sidewalk and hoping to catch the woman off guard.

As rubber bullets bounced harmlessly on a red energy shield the taser wires of the stun guns fell to the ground, unable to pass through it either. Gwendoline cursed under her breath and hoped the gas would be effective. Peering over the back of the car the woman was busy lifting and slamming some of her men into the pavement, and taking her shot, she fired.

As the gas cloud over the woman, Gwendoline heard her cough and as the red cloud cleared she inwardly cheered as she saw her down on one knee, slapping her chest trying to clear her lungs.

“Gas? and you think that will work.” The woman stood and a strange suit of armour covered her, grey with red runes over it Gwendoline had only ever seen on President Doom's armour.

“We are Hexen, and we see you, Gwen.” 

The car Gwendoline was behind lifted up and as she scrambled back it was crushed into a ball and thrown at the armoured car Gwendoline and her men arrived in, “not my Gwen though, no, we do not like what we hear from you,” and with a wave of her hand, the nine men and Gwendoline were lifted and brought into the street.

“We hear your thoughts. You are thugs, no better than criminals,” and Hexen slammed anyone conscious into the ground until they stopped moving, leaving Gwendoline hanging there.

As a streak of red energy touched Gwendoline on the side of the head, Hexen tilted hers in response, “You do not know Peter,“ and she shook her head. “But we can still use you,” and Gwendoline nodded.

This woman was amazing, she was perfect and Gwendoline loved her, no matter what anyone said, she was her life partner, no matter what she did, and if she needed to find Peter Parker then Gwendoline would help her.

Hexen glared at her and seeing the world through Gwendoline's memories she shook her head in disgust. Doom had purposefully extended the war front into Russia, spurning the weather, relying on mechanical soldiers. His Doombots were praised as giant sentinels against the axis threat, but nobody saw the danger until it was too late. Built by him and Howard Stark to combat the weather. Stalin and his mutants had retaliated rather than retreating, and over seventy years later the war still raged on.

Wanda knew though that after the damage she caused, that she would have to play along or risk being exposed and really captured,

You will cuff me, and take me to Peter Parker. He asked for me.

Wanda felt no guilt at using her more aggressive powers on the people here. Jackbooted thugs were less than people, and even though the woman wore Gwen’s face, Wanda was disgusted to think that her friend could ever follow such ideals.

The one thing that surprised Wanda, Peter's parents were still alive, and known to the Captain. They were two of Doom's elite soldiers, His Doom-Minions. While not high on the ladder they were still big shots in New York, while she might want to call Gwen by her other world name, she refused to call her new home New Doomsberg, the egotistical jackass could screw off on that one. It was bad enough to know that the rationing she suffered in Sokovia was affecting a great city such as the Big Apple.

Even as she looked around, she saw very few smiles, most wore grey, thick layers and the fashion sense of the world seemed stuck in the depression era. Men smoked pipes and she even spotted a few kids, watching others playing with a beat-up football, their dirty faces hinting that the child labour laws that prevented abuse were not present in this reality.

Gwendoline motioned to one of the jeeps and she climbed aboard while Gwendoline took the drivers side. This New York was not her home and seeing the mess it was in, you could tell which neighbourhood was rich, as the trash and the people soon vanished. Looking out the window, Wanda could tell that rich did not mean free.

Heavily armoured guards patrolled, with green flashes on their arms, watching couples wearing styles straight from the ’40s. Technology and science had stopped, and even the neon signs were replaced by old fashioned department stores and grocers. Cars were sparse, and the military jeep looked out of place riding behind a horse and cart.

It sickened Wanda to her stomach, even if Stephen disagreed she would not stand for this level of barbarity. Whatever Doom had done to this world, she would find Peter and then she and Stephen would tear this dictatorship apart to give these people back their lives.