Multiverse: Deathstroke

Chapter 186: Ch.185 The Good Become Better, The Bad Become Worse

Chapter 186: Ch.185 The Good Become Better, The Bad Become Worse

"Schmidt sent his men to steal my research. He injected himself with the Super Soldier Serum," Dr. Erskine said, his tone filled with regret. He felt responsible, as if creating the serum had been his mistake. Perhaps it should never have been invented, but the damage was done, and now he could only try to fix his error.

Steve nodded slightly, though he didn't fully understand the science behind it. "Did it really make him stronger?"

Dr. Erskine adjusted his glasses and hesitated for a few seconds before nodding. "Yes, but it had side effects. The serum formula was incomplete at the time. More importantly, it depends on the person receiving the injection."

"The person?" Steve asked.

"Yes, the serum enhances everything about the person. So a good man becomes better, but a bad man... becomes worse." Dr. Erskine scratched his bald head as he explained the basic principle of his research to Steve.

The Super Soldier Serum (SSS) didn't just affect the body—it also affected the mind and brain, amplifying a person's ambition and core nature. With great power, it made people feel invincible.

Steve began to understand, but he knew Dr. Erskine hadn't finished. He waited quietly, their gazes meeting in the silent barracks as they both pondered the conversation.

"That's why you were chosen. A strong man who has known power all his life may lose respect for it. But a weak man knows the value of strength and understands compassion," Dr. Erskine explained, searching for the right words. He wasn't sure if his English was precise enough, but he trusted Steve would understand.

Steve thought for a moment, then looked up at the doctor with a determined expression.

"Thank you. I think I understand now."

Dr. Erskine smiled and gestured toward Steve's suitcase, signaling him to pass the glasses. He opened the bottle of wine he had brought and poured some into the two glasses.

The clinking of the reddish-brown liquid in the glasses sounded crisp, and under the yellow barracks lights, the wine shimmered like fresh blood.

Dr. Erskine handed one glass to Steve and pointed at Steve's chest. "Promise me this: no matter what happens tomorrow, stay true to who you are. You don't have to be a perfect soldier, but be a good man."

Steve smiled. He wasn't sure he could ever be a perfect soldier, especially since he couldn't even properly hold a rifle yet. But being a good person? That he could do. Both his father and Mr. Wilson had taught him to be an honorable man, and that was something he wanted for himself, too.

He raised his glass to Dr. Erskine. "To the weak little guys."

Dr. Erskine understood that Steve was referring to himself, acknowledging his own past struggles and promising not to let power change him.

With a chuckle, the doctor clinked his glass with Steve's. "To the weak."

But just as they were about to drink, Dr. Erskine quickly snatched Steve's glass away.

"Good heavens, what am I doing? You have a medical exam tomorrow. No drinking tonight."

Steve shrugged. He recognized the bottle—it was a Wilson Enterprises product, a 1925 vintage from the Prohibition era. He didn't think much of it. Back then, even though he was young, his father drank, Uncle Tom from next door drank, and plenty of people bought alcohol in secret.

Steve wasn't one to blindly follow laws. He judged things by his own moral compass and believed in simple values. Drinking and selling alcohol wasn't wrong; enjoying life's pleasures was a right every person deserved. It was laws like Prohibition, which suppressed human nature, that were flawed.

But since Dr. Erskine mentioned tomorrow's exam, Steve agreed not to drink.

With a slight grin, he said, "Alright, after everything's done, we'll have a drink."

"Why wait?" the doctor asked, puzzled. He looked at Steve, then poured both glasses into one and swirled the wine around, inhaling its rich scent. "I don't have any appointments tomorrow, so I'll enjoy it now."

With that, the doctor downed the wine.

The tension between them eased after that, and their conversation flowed more casually. They chatted about the army and shared stories about their lives, enjoying a lighthearted moment together.

Neither of them noticed Nick Fury slipping away outside the window. His mission was to "protect" Dr. Erskine. He and Ried had brought the doctor back from Germany, and despite Erskine's past ties to the Nazis, Fury still had to "protect" him.

This was why Fury had been called back from France—to ensure the safety of the operation.

On the third day, Steve sat in the army's car with Peggy Carter waiting for him inside. They needed to return to New York for the transformation experiment. The procedure required a massive amount of electricity, which Philadelphia's grid couldn't handle.

The black car wasn't as luxurious as Su Ming's vehicle, but it was far more comfortable than the truck Steve had ridden to the camp.

Steve gazed eagerly out the window at the passing scenery. Every tree and flower seemed to fascinate him. In reality, he was nervous—he didn't know what his fate would be. What if the serum turned him into a muscle-bound monster?

With everything unknown, Steve tried to distract himself by focusing on the world outside.

Peggy watched him with mild exasperation. He was so genuine, spending the entire ride excitedly pointing out the landscape. Did he not realize that there were more interesting things inside the car?

The car arrived in Brooklyn, Steve's old neighborhood. He was very familiar with the area. As they drove, Steve pressed his finger against the glass, telling Peggy about the places he used to visit.

"I got beat up in that alley once... And that parking lot... Oh, and the back door of that restaurant..."

Peggy smiled, hoping to calm his nerves. She joined in on the conversation, trying to ease the mood. "Do you have a way to stop yourself from running?"

Steve didn't catch on to the awkwardness in her tone. He shook his head earnestly. "Once you start running, they never let you stop. You have to get back up and fight."

Peggy smiled at his answer. "I understand how you feel. It's like every door in front of you slams shut."

She knew this feeling well. In a world filled with discrimination—whether racial, gender-based, or class-related—a woman like her wasn't traditionally welcome in the military.

Steve looked down, fidgeting with his fingers as if trying to scrub off some invisible dirt.

"I just don't understand why you'd want to join the military," he said. Worried that his words might be misunderstood, he quickly added, "I mean, you're a beautiful woman... Uh, I mean, a female agent, not just a woman... Uh, you're really pretty..."

As his words fumbled, Peggy turned and stared at him sharply, then shook her head with a wry smile.

"You don't know how to talk to women, do you?"

Steve scratched his head with a sheepish smile. "I think this is the longest conversation I've ever had."

Peggy's eyes sparkled with amusement, though she hid it well. She turned her head slightly, not wanting Steve to see the smile forming on her lips.

She had met many men in the military, but none quite like Steve. In the short time she had known him, she had grown fond of him. His personality had captivated her.

A person's strength, she believed, wasn't measured by how much they could carry in the streets but by how much they could bear in life.

As an Englishwoman, Peggy had seen plenty of men with gentlemanly facades hiding ordinary minds. None of them interested her. But Steve's sincere and fresh nature made her feel at ease.

Now that she knew he didn't have a girlfriend, she was secretly pleased.

Steve, still looking down, continued speaking quietly about his past. "Girls don't exactly line up to dance with a guy who's always sick."

"That just means they don't know how to dance," Peggy replied gently, her words laced with compassion.

Steve smiled, detecting her genuine concern in her voice. "I guess I haven't given it much thought over the years. I've just been waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Peggy asked, her large eyes filled with curiosity and kindness.

"Waiting for the right partner," Steve said, looking at her with quiet sincerity.

Peggy smiled. She liked that answer.