The Gamble of Fate
Airlifted Back to Base – The Aftermath of Crimes That Should Not Be Possible
The HYDRA base was silent.
Like, dead silent. The kind of silence you hear right before a catastrophic explosion, or when someone says, “Hey, you should try gas station sushi.”
The helicopter had just landed. The door slid open. A group of exhausted, traumatized men stumbled out, looking like they had returned from a war-torn battlefield—because, in a way, they had.
They had survived me.
I followed them, stepping off the chopper, still holding my hibachi plate from Benihana like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Winter Soldier was beyond done. This was not casual frustration. This was a cosmic level of despair. He had lost all will to live somewhere between the "Sweet Caroline" incident, the pterodactyl attack, and the moment we were airlifted out of a Benihana parking lot by HYDRA black ops. I suspected he was only standing because gravity was holding him up against his will.
And waiting for us, standing there like the physical embodiment of pure, simmering rage, was Red Skull.
The man. The myth. The angriest bald German man I had ever seen. A man whose forehead veins had veins.
He stood with his arms crossed, glaring at us like a disappointed father who just caught his kids trying to summon Satan in the basement.
“…Why,” he said, his voice dangerously calm, “did the mission take so long?”
Winter Soldier stepped forward, sighing so hard I thought his soul was going to physically escape his body. “Sir. We stole the intel and gold from Fort Knox.”
Red Skull nodded. “Yes. That part, I know.”
“…Then we got in the getaway vehicle.”
“Good.”
“…The getaway vehicle was an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile.”
Silence.
A slow blink.
“…I beg your pardon?”
Winter Soldier looked like he wanted to launch himself into the sun. “The Wienermobile. It… was our getaway car.”
Red Skull’s left eye twitched.
Winter Soldier inhaled like a man about to confess to setting Rome on fire. “Then—then our driver misinterpreted the GPS, and instead of returning to base, we ended up 800 miles in the wrong direction.”
Red Skull clenched his fists so hard I thought he was about to explode like an overcooked bratwurst.
Winter Soldier continued digging our collective graves. “We ended up in the hood in Atlanta. Our driver decided to play a dubstep remix of ‘Sweet Caroline,’ then shouted praise for the New Orleans Saints.”
A visible vein bulged in Red Skull’s forehead, pulsing like a warning beacon.
Winter Soldier took a deep breath and finished, “We were chased by an angry mob, went to a Benihana that does not have a drive-thru, were served hibachi by a man in roller skates, who was then snatched by a pterodactyl, and we had to be rescued by helicopter.”
Silence.
Red Skull slowly, slowly pinched the bridge of his nose like he was holding back the urge to scream in six different languages. “You. Are. Banned. From. The. Wienermobile.”
I nodded, still chewing my hibachi. “Understandable.”
The Banana Incident – You Can’t Stop the Madness
Red Skull forbade me from using the Wienermobile. But he never said anything about a banana on wheels.
So naturally, for our next mission, I rolled up in a giant banana on wheels.
The team stood in absolute silence as I pulled up, honking.
Winter Soldier stared. “Is that a banana?”
“Yeah.”
“On wheels?”
“Yep.”
Winter Soldier exhaled the deepest, most exhausted sigh of his life. He looked like he was reconsidering every decision that had led him to this moment.
Red Skull, watching from his office, saw the banana car through the window, sighed, turned off his computer, and left the room. I heard him mutter something in German that roughly translated to “I am too old for this shit.”
Evading the Police – The Banana Chase of Absolute Lunacy
The mission went as expected. We stole the intel. We stole the money.
Then, once again, we were being chased by police.
I floored it, the banana car zooming at 100 miles per hour.
“Why are we in a fruit?!” someone screamed.
I was cackling. “They’ll never catch us in a banana!”
They caught us.
Sort of.
A roadblock was up ahead.
I did the only logical thing.
I drove the banana car off a bridge and into the raging rapids below.
Floating Down the Colorado River in a Banana
The banana car floated.
Nobody spoke.
We just drifted down the Colorado River, a bunch of hardened criminals in a giant floating potassium stick.
One guy quietly muttered, “This is exactly how I thought I’d die.”
Another whispered, “I’m allergic to bananas.”
I, however, was thriving.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured them. “I got this.”
I gunned it and somehow drove us onto the shore.
The team just stared at me in awe and horror.
Winter Soldier finally muttered, “This is why they don’t let me have nice things.”
Vegas – The Blackjack Incident That Made No Sense
We were mentally destroyed.
So, we collectively decided: screw it. Let’s go to Vegas.
We pulled up to the Bellagio in the banana car. A valet took the keys without blinking. Vegas was used to this kind of nonsense.
As soon as we stepped inside, one of the guys grinned. “Hey, you should play blackjack.”
I squinted. “Dude. I’m not even old enough to be in here.”
He waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll explain the rules. It’s super easy.”
So they sat me at a table.
And that’s when things got weird.
I Accidentally Became a Blackjack God
First hand? 20.
Second hand? 20.
Third? 20.
Every single time? 20.
People started noticing.
A crowd formed.
By the fifth round, I had won 250 million dollars.
The casino staff started whispering. Players started glaring. A pit boss materialized out of thin air, staring at me like I had just invented fire in front of him.
“Hey,” one of my teammates muttered. “I think we should leave.”
“Why?”
Right on cue, a mob of angry gamblers started charging us.
“That kid’s cheating!”
“Get him!!!”
We bolted.
Once again, we had to be airlifted out of Vegas by HYDRA.
Red Skull Has Officially Given Up on Life
We landed at the base. Again.
Red Skull stood there, face in his hands.
He didn’t even ask this time.
Winter Soldier, utterly broken, just said, “We went to Vegas. We won 250 million. Then we got chased out.”
Red Skull slowly lifted his head. “You won how much?”
“250 million.”
Silence.
Red Skull rubbed his temples.
Then, he fired everyone involved.
Officially Unemployed and Somehow Thriving
Me.
Winter Soldier.
The five other guys.
All fired.
But hey, we kept the 250 million, so whatever.
Then, one of us tried to make ramen and set the house on fire.
So, naturally, we had to move.
But aside from that?
We were somehow living happily ever after.
And no, nobody fell in love.