"Mr. Stark, how's the preparation going?"
Dr. Erskine turned to Howard in front of the instruments and asked. Howard quickly walked over, looking at Steve lying in the boat-shaped experiment table, speaking seemingly to him but also to himself.
"We might cause a blackout in Brooklyn, but I'm ready, as always..."
This made Steve even more nervous. Why did your voice suddenly get softer when you said 'as always'? And what do you mean by turning your head away and not daring to look at me?!
But there was no chance for him to ask. Howard had already slipped away, as if he was here just to cause trouble.....
Dr. Erskine adjusted his round glasses. The experiment was about to begin: "Well then, Agent Carter, I think the observation room is more suitable for you."
"Oh, yes, Doctor."
Agent Carter looked at Steve, walking away with frequent backward glances. She found Steve was also looking at her, and so she gave him an encouraging smile.
This made Steve feel much better. There were still reliable people around, even though Baki and Mr. Wilson were not present, but Peggy was.
Yes, he had a crush on her, but he was too shy to speak up. He was still unsure if he could survive, how could he make promises to others?
He watched Peggy's back as she ascended the stairs, taking a deep breath. If the experiment succeeded, he decided to confess to her, at least then people wouldn't laugh at her for dating a dwarf.
But could the confession be successful? He was not confident either. He had never done anything like that before, let alone gone on a date.
He shook his head, shook the thoughts out of his mind, and laid back down, staring at the ceiling.
The group of people in the observation room was working on building relationships and connections. Politics required networks and taking every opportunity; whether the location was a lab or a fancy banquet, it made little difference to them.
"Colonel, I heard Mr. Wilson also donated to you. Didn't you invite him today?" Congressman Brandt asked Philip, realizing the experiment was about to begin and the person he wanted to see hadn't appeared yet.
He had found out that Wilson Enterprises was not only a defense supplier and a retail giant but also Mr. Wilson himself had inexplicably good relations with many military leaders. Forming ties with the military during wartime was a great move.
He had been wanting to build a connection for a while; otherwise, he wouldn't have come to Brooklyn to visit a basement amid his 'busy schedule.' He thought the Colonel would invite all financiers to showcase the results to secure more funding, yet the person he wanted to see was absent.
The Colonel understood what the Congressman was after: "I did invite him, but his secretary said he went on vacation to Hawaii, supposedly because New York's weather has not been great recently, and he despises rain and snow."
The Congressman nodded helplessly. Alright, then he could chat with Stark after the experiment; Stark Industries also had significant financial resources.
"Zzz....."
Suddenly, a noise came from the observation room, causing everyone to wince. It was like fingers scratching a chalkboard with an electric tone.
Professor downstairs was to speak; he helplessly looked at those politicians, the same in any country.
"Ahem, gentlemen, can you hear me? Our experiment is about to begin." He tapped the microphone, clearing his throat: "Today, we are not taking the first step toward destruction, but the first step towards peace."
Behind him, Steve could see the medical staff present beginning to bustle around; nurses pushed in a large box containing rows of test tubes filled with blue liquid.
They took out the test tubes, inserting them into the interfaces on both sides of his boat-shaped experimental chamber. They then swung over several metal supports, attaching them to his body.
"First, we'll perform a series of micro-injections into the main muscle groups of the test subject. The injected serum will immediately trigger cellular changes at the bodily level."
The professor was speaking fluently below, while Peggy Carter bit her lip, nervously watching Steve below.
Erskine explained his experimental steps to the bigwigs while ensuring the nurses did their job correctly, then continued: "Next, the test subject will be exposed to saturated Vita Beam radiation. The beams, combined with the serum, will quickly induce beneficial mutations in the body."
After briefly explaining the principle, the professor put down the microphone; the upper people did not care about the test subjects or the experiment itself; they were here just like attending a ribbon-cutting ceremony; it made no difference if this was a hotel or lab. Erskine had no interest in further elaboration.
Returning to Steve's side, a nurse was puncturing Steve's arm with a small syringe, injecting some clear liquid into his body.
"How are you feeling?" the professor asked.
"Pretty good? The process was quite quick." Steve felt the needle didn't have much sensation, and he hadn't noticed any changes in himself yet.
The professor rolled his eyes: "That shot was penicillin, just penicillin; we haven't started yet."
"Uh....."
Erskine pressed Steve's shoulder, signaling him to relax as he turned his head to give instructions to the staff.
"Serum injection countdown..."
People were tensely watching Steve on the experimental bed, with Peggy standing up even more nervously.
"Five, four, three, two....one."
Two metal plates filled with needles plunged into Steve's upper arm, and the blue serum on each side of the test bench was injected into his body at a visible high speed.
Instantly, intense pain surged; he felt like his blood was boiling inside him. He gritted his teeth, glaring with wide eyes at the air, his body curling up like a shrimp, but being restrained, he couldn't struggle.
Every inch of muscle was being torn, bones began to transform, his soul felt like a leaf boat in a storm.
Dr. Erskine knew this was a normal reaction; the transformation process of the serum was indeed excruciating. Conversely, the faster his team moved, the less torture Steve would endure.
"Mr. Stark, start the exposure!"
Howard nodded, put on his sunglasses, and began operating the control panel.
The boat-shaped workbench closed like petals, truly wrapping Steve as if in a coffin, forming a small radiation-sealed experimental chamber, with several hydraulic devices raising it upright, while staff connected the oxygen pipes with the chamber.
Dr. Erskine leaned next to the experimental chamber, tapping on the leaded glass: "How are you feeling? Steve, are you okay?"
Steve was gritting his teeth; he now felt like ants were crawling inside him, but he could still bear it: "I suppose it's too late to go to the bathroom now, right?"
Dr. Erskine chuckled, turned to nod at Howard, who immediately turned a large knob on the instrument, and those spiral bulbs inside the chamber began to emit strong white light, which instantly lit up the basement so brightly that all had to turn their heads away with tears streaming.
It was at this time, in the antique shop as a cover for the Strategic Science Corps on the ground, that a new guest arrived. The elderly woman tending the shop looked up, her expression changing dramatically, she pulled out a submachine gun from under the counter and fired at the intruder, resulting only in scattering sparks.
Countless bullets hit the black-and-yellow armor, bouncing around, and many wall clocks hung on the walls were hit by stray bullets, sending springs and gears flying.
The tall figure seemed unaffected, walking towards the elderly woman step by step, the single eye on the mask glowing red.
This was the Demon of New York's urban legends, with any disappearance or death capable of being attributed to him, but the elderly woman never thought he actually existed.
Deathstroke was the embodiment of the Death God, not meant to exist like Vampires or Frankenstein, only in fantasy?
But the facts were clearly overturning her understanding; the legendary monster appeared right before her eyes, and the Special Agent guarding outside was taken down without causing a stir.
The figure stood directly in front of her, allowing her random shooting until the submachine gun clicked empty; he tilted his head with interest.
The elderly woman heard a clearly modified, low-pitched voice, as if coming from Hell:
"I have a question: does the Strategic Science Corps provide you with health insurance?"