"I'm going to make my move!"
Carter shot Steve a quick glare and lunged forward. Her fist flashed out, pale and precise, slamming squarely into Steve's chest before he could react. The blow knocked him back two steps, winded.
Rubbing the sore spot, Steve quickly focused, his blue eyes sharpening as he raised his guard. Seeing his seriousness, Carter nodded in approval and attacked again.
When he fought properly, Steve's technique was not inferior to hers. Their strength was nearly even. He blocked her punch, caught her wrist, and tried to pull her off balance.
But Carter's combat experience ran deeper; she instantly read his intention. Turning with his pull, she spun and drove an elbow toward his ribs.
Steve caught it just in time, pressing her arm downward to neutralize the strike.
Back and forth they went—fast, clean, evenly matched. Each strike and counter struck sparks off the other.
Watching them trade blows, Chen Mo smiled.
Steve… this is as far as a teacher can help you.
The spar ended with Carter throwing Steve clean over her shoulder. The match done, she wisely made no mention of challenging Chen Mo again. Instead, she asked to join all future training sessions with him and Steve.
For the sake of his student's "romantic future," Chen Mo readily agreed.
And so, Steve Rogers gained the "junior sister" of his dreams.
Carter, as it turned out, had a natural gift for combat—no weaker than Steve's. After weeks of training, she often won their sparring matches. But she never looked down on him. Knowing what he'd once been, she admired his resolve and effort. She believed he'd one day surpass her.
But not without a fight, she thought with a faint smile.
—
As the research advanced, Chen Mo's understanding of the Super-Soldier Serum deepened, and his contributions to Dr. Erskine's work grew critical. After months of refinement, the new optimized serum was finally complete. The postponed human trial would begin at last.
That meant it was time to decide on the test subject.
Colonel Phillips was firmly against using Steve. To him, a soldier should look like Chen Mo—tall, strong, commanding, deadly. Steve, for all his courage, still looked fragile to the old soldier's eye.
Dr. Erskine hesitated. Steve's courage and goodness deeply moved him—but Chen Mo's performance was flawless. Both were extraordinary in their own way, and he simply couldn't decide.
Once again, he and the colonel argued.
Phillips, fed up, decided to prove his point.
"In war, what matters most is guts!" he declared—and tossed a dummy grenade into the crowd.
"Grenade!" he shouted.
Instant chaos. The recruits scattered—every man diving for cover.
Except Steve. Without a second thought, he hurled himself onto the grenade, curling over it to shield the others.
But before anyone could react, a hand seized Steve's arm and yanked him away. Chen Mo snatched up the grenade, spun, and threw it more than a hundred meters across the field.
Carter froze mid-step, watching both men—Steve for his selflessness, Chen Mo for his power—and couldn't help but smile.
Around them, the soldiers stared in stunned silence. The grenade landed far away with no explosion. Only then did they realize it was fake.
Phillips and Erskine exchanged glances—equal parts impressed and exasperated. The test had proven nothing.
—
That night, Chen Mo knocked on Dr. Erskine's door.
"Chen Mo? What brings you here?" The doctor blinked, surprised. "Come in."
Once they sat, Erskine poured them each a drink. "This is about the experiment, isn't it?"
"Yes," Chen Mo said. "I want you to choose Steve."
That answer surprised the doctor. "Why?"
"Because Steve needs this more than I do. Going to war is his dream—it's his only chance. I can wait for the next one."
Erskine's eyes softened. He had liked Chen Mo from the start, but this quiet selflessness deepened his respect. "You know, I've been torn for days. Both of you are remarkable."
He stood, fetched a bottle of brandy, and filled their glasses. "But if that's your choice… very well. Tomorrow, you'll assist me in the procedure. Steve could use your encouragement."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"No, thank you," Erskine replied warmly. "You've made my decision easy. Two such fine men—this program couldn't ask for more."
They drank. The brandy burned pleasantly down their throats.
As the conversation deepened, Erskine grew reflective, telling Chen Mo his story.
He was German—once a scientist under Hitler's regime. His research on human enhancement had drawn the Führer's attention, and he was sent to Hydra, the Nazi research division.
Their current leader, Johann Schmidt, was ambitious and fanatical, obsessed—like Hitler—with power drawn from myth and legend.
"He wanted to become a god," the doctor said bitterly.
When Schmidt discovered the serum's potential, he forced Erskine to test it on him. But the formula was unstable. The serum amplified everything within a man—the good became better, the evil far worse. Schmidt's body survived, but his soul twisted, his face deformed. Thus was born the Red Skull.
"His ambition now," Erskine said quietly, "is to rule the world."
"Does he know you're here?" Chen Mo asked carefully.
The doctor hesitated, hand tightening on his glass. "With Hydra's intelligence network… it's possible."
"Then tomorrow's experiment could be dangerous," Chen Mo said firmly. "He won't just sit by while we create an army of super-soldiers."
Erskine frowned but nodded slowly. "You're right. But—"
Chen Mo cut him off. "Even if tomorrow goes smoothly, what happens next? The formula will go to politicians. They'll mass-produce super-soldiers. What then? What if the secret leaks to Hydra—or to another power-hungry faction?"
The doctor started to speak, but Chen Mo pressed on.
"Let's say it stays secret. Even then—can you trust the politicians to give up such power after the war? To dissolve an army of enhanced men who could rule nations by force?"
Erskine fell silent. The thought chilled him. He had always believed his serum would end wars and preserve peace. But what if it did the opposite?
For the first time, he imagined his invention twisted into tyranny—and sweat beaded at his brow.
"What should we do?" he asked quietly.
Chen Mo paused, then said, "Perhaps… we should talk to the colonel and Agent Carter."