Chapter 187: Ch.186 Preparations for the Experiment
The car slowly drove into a nondescript alley, one of many in Brooklyn. People hurried along the streets, and a few children played ball games in the road. The buildings around them weren't tall, but they exuded a classical charm, with their old-fashioned windows having witnessed countless changes in the city.
The streets were damp, evidence of recent rain. Steve breathed in the familiar air as he followed Peggy Carter out of the car.
They entered a small shop called "Brooklyn Antique Store." In the display window were items like vases and lamps, covered in dust. Whether they were true antiques, Steve couldn't be sure.
A few men in hats stood outside the store reading newspapers, appearing as typical street loafers. However, their eyes briefly followed Peggy before shifting elsewhere, signaling that they were also agents.
Peggy led Steve through the door. Inside, there were no customers. The dim lighting revealed an elderly woman behind the counter. She was surrounded by an array of old-fashioned clocks hanging on the walls.
Though her hair was white, she looked spry, with a kind smile on her face. She adjusted her pink sweater and greeted them with a standard British phrase.
"Lovely weather this morning, isn't it?"
Peggy responded with the coded phrase, "Yes, but I always carry an umbrella."
The elderly woman smiled, reached under the counter, and brushed past a Tommy gun before pressing a concealed button nearby.
With no further conversation, Peggy took Steve behind a curtain, leading them into the back room. A bookshelf slid open, revealing a secret hallway.
Inside, numerous soldiers with military police insignia stood guard, along with several doctors and nurses in white coats, hurrying about.
Steve followed Peggy curiously down the hall, which led to a massive laboratory behind a door at the far end.
In the center of the room stood a large piece of equipment resembling a metallic coffin, surrounded by tall, incomprehensible machinery with various gauges and slots that spit out paper.
Steve spotted Dr. Erskine standing below, looking up at him. Not far from him was another familiar face—Howard Stark, wearing his signature mustache, though looking more serious than usual. He was busy calibrating the equipment, unaware of Steve's arrival.
Steve glanced at Peggy, who sighed quietly. This experiment carried great unknown risks, the greatest of which was whether Steve could endure the immense pain.
It didn't matter whether the donations were personal or from federal funds—money was money.
"Senator Brandt, welcome!" Phillips warmly shook hands with an older man, smiling broadly.
"Why exactly am I here?" The senator, a man in his fifties or sixties, asked coldly, barely returning the handshake.
Phillips suppressed his frustration, but kept a smile on his face as he leaned in closer to the senator. "We need to tap into New York's power grid. Of course, if you could approve the generator I requested last time—"
The senator interrupted rudely, "Colonel, many departments are requesting funding right now. They're developing bombers, bigger ships, and tanks—things we can actually see."
He gestured to a young man with glasses who had been standing nearby and introduced him to Phillips. "This is—"
The young man smiled warmly and finished the introduction himself. "Fred Clemson, representing the federal government. If your project succeeds, the government will provide stronger support."
As Phillips made small talk with the young man, the senator surveyed the lab below. From the observation deck, he could see Steve removing his clothes and lying down. His frail, skeletal body was fully visible.
Too scrawny, the senator thought. Like a skeleton covered in skin. He had a general idea of what the experiment would do. If it worked, this sickly guy would turn into a super-muscular powerhouse.
The sight prompted the senator to mutter, "Good Lord, this little guy's hit the jackpot."
Steve, unaware of the onlookers, lay down on the examination table with steadfast resolve. At least the padding was leather and not cold metal, but his bony arms still broke out in goosebumps.
Dr. Erskine approached, adjusting the straps on the table. Steve had to be restrained, as the intense pain from the procedure would cause anyone to thrash uncontrollably.
"How are you feeling?" the doctor asked.
Steve smiled, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he tried to rest his head on the pillow. He stared at the gray ceiling above. "Not bad. This bed's just a bit too big for me. Still have that wine left?"
The doctor chuckled, offering a comforting look. "Sorry, there's only a little left. Probably not enough for the future you."
Steve grinned. "We'll save it for next time. I know a place in New York that has plenty of wine."