[Hospital, Military Base Alpha] [September 18, 2022] “Vitals are nominal.” “Removing all injectors.” “Administrating minor shock therapy.” The various screens held graphs and charts. They jumped with each minor electric shock, much like a party buzzer. “Brain waves are fluctuating. She is waking up!” The four of us watched as the woman on the bed groaned. Her arms twitched as she opened her eyes to the room. The lights had dimmed as a courtesy. “How are you feeling?” Sue asked as she watched the woman’s various vitals pulsate on her screen. “Like a bull ran over me,” the woman complained. “Miss Zinda Blake,” Sue began as she looked over the woman’s file. It wasn’t much. “What do you last remember?” Zinda scrunched up her face and ran her finger through her hair. She hid the frustration of not finding her hair clasp. The hidden dagger would have helped comfort her. The two Japanese women standing in the room were far from comforting. “I was on a scouting mission. Germans were poking around the beaches,” Zinda said as she recalled getting onto the beach. There was some bright light? Then nothing. “I see… The files on you confirm that was your last mission. To head to Venezuela to do reconnaissance,” Sue said as she reread the report. Zinda felt a cold sweat hit her as she was on a secret recon mission. There was a mole in security! Then a massive screen pop into life above her. That was new. Which scared her, these Nazi bastards were winning the tech war! The screen showed scans from a report. In it was her profile and beside it was her last mission. She had encountered a German flakship. Memories flooded her mind. Her Aeronca had taken hits, and she had to jump out with her chute. The ripcord didn’t work, and the ground was coming up mighty quick. “It's been Seventy-Nine years since you vanished. You got transported to modern-day times. Then you got placed in ice,” Sue explained as she accessed Umbrella’s hidden files. A new image appeared. A video image. Shaky footage showed the sky flashing, and a loud rumble happened. A couple recording themselves surfing. Then they turned their camera around to show a falling object as they screamed at each other. The object, a human, splashed into the water. The couple was quick to paddle over, desperation fueling their sluggish speeds. Their surfboards making poor boats. A convenient wave crested, and they could ride that to the fallen person. The person turned out to be a blond woman. The other surfer could grab the woman and hold on to her as they reached the shoreline. Other people were gathering to help. The footage cut out as several calls to 171 to get an ambulance. The footage stopped there. Then another footage began to play. This one had a woman in full medical gear. Her excited voice was firing in rapid Spanish. It showed text, but the accuracy was iffy. “The transportation event infused this woman with tachyons! A theorized symptom of time displacement. No metagene, nor advanced tech, is present. Thus we can only speculate on how she has traveled Seventy-Eight years to our modern-day!” The woman walked around the naked blond. Various technicians drew blood or monitored her vitals. Machines beeped they used every conceivable measuring instrument they could find. The footage cut out as the woman lifted a scalpel. The shiny metal tool gleamed in the light. It was for a small incision to get muscle samples. They would then devolve into bits of data collected across the instruments. Zinda shot up. She scanned her bare body for the injuries. She only relaxed as she didn’t find any injuries. Damn, but did she hate doctors with knives. “They placed you into a type of cold sleep. To preserve you for future study, as they had collected a lot of data. Most of it is seemingly useless, but with data, the more the merrier,” Sue said as played the next video. It was from a youtuber. A young man who had hoped to help inform Captain America about modern-day life. To teach him what had happened during the last few decades. Zinda Blake was not Captain America, but it was effective at the message it conveyed. It was a montage of facts. Zinda watched in fascination, and horror, at what the video summarized. WW2 and its end, and the more promising decades after. Each segment got roughly two minutes as the person narrated what they felt was important. Though the newest decades was so alien to her. The technology was beyond what sci-fi was when she went to the movies! It was a dense 20-minute video, showing the advancements of human culture. It mesmerized Zinda from beginning to end. So much had advanced and change from her time. The appearance of Super-Heroes and Super-Villains was not shocking to her. She had seen firsthand the power, and devastation, that muties possessed. They were a force of nature and commanded respect. The door opened and Zinda watched as soldiers entered. Her mind saw their smooth gait as they took up positions on the far walls. Their eyes were on her. Though their weapons got held at their side, and they stood in a relaxed stance. She knew they would spring to action at a moment’s notice. These were professional soldiers. A man walked in. He walked with confidence, unbothered by the surrounding soldiers. Then things become odd as two young birds walked in after him. They muted his presence as they were not in military or formal dress. One was wearing a cheerleader’s outfit. She would have fit in as a high school queen back home. The red skirt was rather fetching. The other was orange. An orange girl. Odd, green in green eyes. She smiled as they walked in. The purple clothes showed off her bare arms and midriff. In this scene, where two birds were underdressed, she would bet her pretty pennies. These two were the most dangerous ones here. The video had shown her super-heroics and the one bird was wearing the same symbol as the Superman. “Hello Miss Blake, I am the Supreme Leader of Val Verde,” he said. A friendly enough smile got given, but she had seen enough business types. A smile up front, and a dagger up the sleeve. “Hello,” Zinda greeted. She looked down and blushed as she pulled her covers up. The cheerleader walked up with a hospital gown, and Zinda smiled as she gratefully took it. She supposed it would do well so long as she didn't moon the people here. She slipped on the gown and was pleased to find that it didn’t leave a gap in the back. Her butt wasn’t hanging out. The marvels of modern-day science were already showing themselves. “Val Verde will of course extend a helping hand. Until you are ready to leave, please relax and vacation here,” the man smiled and gestured to the screen above. “You have a lot to learn, and we are happy to let you catch up.” It showed scenes of the island and the beaches. The video zoomed in to an extravagant house on a white beach. “Why?” Zinda asked as she saw the familiar island, yet it so different now. The lack of US ships and the military port was now something else. “Your records show you are a member of the Blackhawks. They operated out of Val Verde. This ensured the island’s protection and Allied interests,” he said as he walked closer. “The United States is also not the same as you had left it. It would be wise to catch up on current events as they have become xenophobic.” For the first time, his expression changed. It went from that generic smile to something darker. A frown and his distant gaze showed that he believed in what he said. Zinda was no fool, and this wasn’t the first time she had been to foreign lands. She would play the wonderful gal until she found out the truth. “As soon as you are ready, just let us know. You are not a prisoner, but neither do I want you to disappear as a lab rat,” he said as he chuckled at his own joke. “The world has changed, but humanity has not. Knowledge is power. Regardless of your trust in me, it would be wise to learn as much as you can,” he finished with a more genuine smile. “Rest well, Miss Blake,” he said as he turned around and left. The orange mutie stayed as the guards and the cheerleader followed the man out. “As soon as you are ready, we can leave for your new lodgings,” the scientist said as she turned off all the equipment. Zinda smiled and nodded. Regardless of they were telling the truth, the man didn’t lie. Knowledge was power. If there was one thing Zinda was good at, it was learning about others. Her time with the Blackhawks had honed that skill well. ———— Chapter 46: Blast from the past