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Chapter 187: Ch.186 Preparations for the Experiment

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.

She turned her head away, unable to watch, but she was a soldier and had to follow orders.

Peggy led Steve down the stairs, his eyes still fixed on the large machine at the center. Up close, it looked less like a coffin and more like an iron canoe.

However, it was made of metal, and inside were many spiral-shaped light bulbs.

"Good morning," Dr. Erskine said seriously as he shook Steve\'s hand. A flash went off nearby—a military photographer had captured the moment, though it seemed to irritate the doctor. "Not now, please. No pictures yet."

Peggy quickly adjusted her hair, worried that she had been caught staring at Steve\'s back when the photo was taken. How embarrassing would that be?

Dr. Erskine looked at Steve again, noticing how out of place this small man looked in the cold, metallic room. Steve still wore a slightly confused expression.

"Are you ready?"

Steve took one last look at the machine. It had opened like a flower, revealing an inner compartment designed to hold an adult man. Clearly, it was meant for him.

He nodded.

Dr. Erskine knew Steve had waited for this chance for a long time. "Good. Now, take off your hat, shirt, and tie, then lie down."

Steve glanced at Peggy, unsure what to say. Although the experiment carried significant risks, he knew this was what Steve had always dreamed of.

He was willing to take the gamble, and Peggy believed in him. She was certain that if anyone could succeed, it would be Steve.

Steve began undressing, handing his clothes to a nearby nurse. Whether he succeeded or not, he probably wouldn\'t need this uniform anymore.

If he succeeded, it would surely be too small. If he failed... well, there wouldn\'t be much left to dress.

Especially seeing Howard Stark bustling around the machines reminded Steve of the unreliable floating car he\'d seen at the expo. Somehow, he couldn\'t fully trust it...

Meanwhile, Colonel Phillips was busy welcoming his guests to the observation room above the lab. He had invited the army\'s key sponsors to witness the transformation process. The military needed more funding, and these guests were its financial backers.

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."