Chapter 014: Selection
"Hiss!"
The cylindrical solution drained away, the glass dome opened, revealing the human bodies inside.
"We failed. Out of 32 subjects, only three survived. The rest were completely incinerated—not even ash remained." Dr. Zola said with mild disappointment, reviewing the data readouts.
"Three survivors is actually an impressive percentage." Schmidt's expression showed little concern. "We have all of occupied Europe as our resource pool—manpower isn't the issue."
Dr. Zola quietly swallowed. "The instruments indicate that these three soldiers' physical capabilities have improved dramatically, but their cerebral cortexes have been completely destroyed. They're essentially brain-dead vegetables."
"Then find a way to make them functional! Listen to me, Doctor—your purpose here is to solve problems for me, not whine about obstacles!" Schmidt's tone was dangerously low, and he shot Dr. Zola a cold glance.
"Whether through hypnotic conditioning or hardwired programming, we will make use of them. Time is not on our side!"
Schmidt rubbed his cheek, his facial movements exaggerated—the prosthetic skin covering his true face felt constricting. "Dr. Zola, I believe we've been approaching this incorrectly." Looking at the other 29 empty cylinders, Schmidt said thoughtfully.
"We should weaponize the Tesseract's energy directly. Consider this—when the output is calibrated to 200%, what could withstand even a glancing blow? If we increase it further, we could level an entire city without firing a single conventional shot!"
Madness gleamed in Schmidt's eyes. He gently patted Dr. Zola's shoulder. "One month. I expect results within one month."
"Jawohl, Herr Schmidt!" Zola nodded stiffly.
"Sir!" A voice suddenly called from the doorway. A Hydra operative handed Schmidt a folder and quickly departed.
Schmidt opened the file, and a weathered, scholarly face came into view. "Dr. Erskine, we've finally located you."
"You found him?" Zola was visibly surprised.
A strange, predatory smile crossed Schmidt's face. "A low-ranking member who'd just joined Hydra was intercepted by an SSR officer while attempting to fabricate an espionage case."
"During the investigation, he accidentally discovered that this officer was none other than Abraham Erskine!" Schmidt erupted into manic laughter. "The gods truly favor us." He picked up a photograph, and Mason's profile appeared in the dim light.
"We also found a little cockroach that miraculously survived Tønsberg." Thinking of the man's identity as a Tesseract guardian, Schmidt's expression darkened. He placed the photograph on the table, tapped Mason's image, and said to Dr. Zola, "Have our operatives bring him to me. I want to know how he escaped!"
Dr. Zola held up Erskine's photograph and asked quietly, "And what about him?"
"Kill him!" Schmidt said coldly.
"After all, one god is sufficient!" he thought to himself.
"Hey Mason, this place is massive," Steve said quietly, looking around in awe.
Although the Strategic Scientific Reserve was led by the United States, it was a special department jointly organized by the Allied nations, with complex politics running through it. It involved not only partisan conflicts within the American government, but also inter-alliance power struggles.
Mason surveyed the area carefully and noticed several young men among the recruits who were clearly from privileged backgrounds. They seemed to be either political appointees gaining military experience or hoping to be selected as the first super soldier in history.
Several of them were chatting in small cliques when suddenly a crisp female voice called from behind.
"Recruits, atten-HUT!"
A striking woman in military uniform approached. Despite the warm weather, she wore her uniform immaculately, her posture ramrod straight—especially her chest, which strained against the buttons of her service jacket with each step.
It was Agent Carter.
"I'm Agent Peggy Carter, supervising officer for this operation. Over the next month, we'll be conducting selection..."
"Hey, is this the girl you wanted to introduce me to?" Steve whispered to Mason.
Mason nodded. "What do you think? Pretty spectacular, right?"
"But you didn't mention she's our commanding officer." Steve filled out his paperwork, sneaking glances periodically.
"What, having second thoughts? If you're not interested, I might take a shot." Mason teased.
"Come on, you've already got Connie."
"You know my stamina." Mason said with obvious innuendo.
"Oh, for Christ's sake...!" Steve's face flushed; he clearly couldn't handle Mason's crude humor.
After an orientation period, everyone officially entered physical training and evaluation.
Mason, with his enhanced physique, quickly distinguished himself. The only recruit who could match him was a soldier named Hodge. However, this guy was clearly a bully, openly and covertly harassing Steve constantly. Without Mason's intervention, Steve's situation would probably be even more miserable.
"Hut, two, three, four!"
"Move faster, you worthless maggots! You've only covered this much ground in thirty minutes—you're embarrassing yourselves!"
At two o'clock in the afternoon—the hottest part of the day—a group of recruits were running laps around the base's training ground, calling cadence.
"Are you absolutely certain?" In a command tent near the parade ground, a grizzled officer with sharp eyes said skeptically to Dr. Erskine. He was Colonel Chester Phillips, the nominal commander of the Strategic Scientific Reserve.
"He has always been my primary candidate." Dr. Erskine nodded firmly.
"But I prefer Hodge. He meets every criterion—strong, fast, a born warrior." Phillips countered.
"But Mason is equally qualified. His metrics are only marginally below Hodge's, and in some areas significantly superior. Besides, he's a genuinely righteous man. Look at how he protects that scrawny kid Steve."
"He's a truly compassionate soldier, which is precisely what we need." Dr. Erskine watched Mason with admiration, speaking deliberately.
Colonel Phillips' expression showed grudging agreement, but still resistance. "But he's Norwegian. A foreign national."
Dr. Erskine shrugged. "And I'm still a goddamn German."
"Fine!" Colonel Phillips said in exasperation. "I hope your judgment is sound. Do you have any idea how much political hell we'll catch for selecting a foreigner?!"
"Although the entire Strategic Scientific Reserve draws from Allied personnel, this Super Soldier Program ultimately belongs to the United States, so..."
Dr. Erskine clapped Phillips on the shoulder. "History will vindicate our decision today!"
Mason, completely oblivious that Steve's destiny had been utterly rewritten, continued running laps with the main formation.
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