Steve's heart pounded the moment he heard the words. He turned to Chen Mo, eyes bright with disbelief and excitement.
"When S.H.I.E.L.D. was first founded," Chen Mo explained with a faint smile, "you were already counted among us. We just couldn't make it official back then — it would've drawn too much attention."
He nodded toward Steve, his tone calm yet filled with quiet warmth.
In truth, Chen Mo hadn't wanted things to go the way they had. After Dr. Erskine's "death," Steve — the sole successful test subject — had been slated for transfer to another lab as a long-term research specimen. Chen Mo couldn't allow that. His disciple wasn't going to be someone's lab rat.
So when Senator Brand used his political clout to pull Steve out for the war bond tours, Chen Mo had gone along with it. Better a national symbol than a dissected experiment. And when the time was right, it would be easy enough to bring him back to the Strategic Scientific Reserve.
Now, seeing Chen Mo confirm it himself, Steve's chest swelled with pride and gratitude.
A surge of honor, purpose, and responsibility washed over him.
In his heart, he quietly aligned his own ideals with the creed of S.H.I.E.L.D.: to protect world peace, defend the Earth, and safeguard all of humanity.
For the first time, Steve felt truly transformed.
That sense of mission burned through him like fire, so strong it brought tears to his eyes.
With Steve officially joining the ranks, the conversation turned toward the future of S.H.I.E.L.D.
The war in Europe was still at a stalemate, but Chen Mo knew the tide would soon turn. The Normandy landings were drawing near, and once they succeeded, the already faltering Nazi regime would be trapped between two fronts — crushed by the combined forces of the Allies and the Soviets.
Afterward, the Strategic Scientific Reserve would inevitably be reorganized, evolving into what history would one day know as the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division — S.H.I.E.L.D. — overseen by the World Security Council.
Chen Mo couldn't tell them all that outright, of course. So he framed it as a projection, a logical prediction of the organization's future.
"In the years to come," he said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. will likely remain hidden within whatever new international body is formed after the war. That way, we'll gain the world's support while keeping our independence. The more invisible we are, the freer we'll be to act for the good of all."
He spoke with quiet conviction.
"Our purpose must never be tied to any one nation. We protect humanity — not governments, not flags."
Everyone around the table nodded.
Chen Mo's "predictions" had a way of becoming reality, and his reasoning made perfect sense. Each of them could see the truth in it.
For now, S.H.I.E.L.D. was thriving. With Chen Mo's legend as its guiding light and the relentless efforts of Phillips and Carter to expand its reach, the organization had already gathered a formidable force — elite soldiers, intelligence experts, and scientists who shared a single belief: that peace was worth fighting for.
They came from every nation, united not by orders or politics, but by purpose.
They sought no fame, no fortune — only to serve that greater ideal.
Chen Mo couldn't help but feel a quiet pride as he looked around the room. It was like watching the birth of the world's first true humanitarian defense organization.
In another age, they might have been eco-guardians fighting poachers, or activists defending the seas from whaling ships.
They were protectors — the purest kind.
For a brief moment, Chen Mo's mind wandered.
Compared to them — these young, steadfast believers — his own motives seemed… selfish.
Everything he had done in this world — building S.H.I.E.L.D., hunting Hydra, even spreading the ideal of global peace — had ultimately been for himself.
He was still preparing.
Every battle, every discovery was part of his long-term plan — to strengthen himself, to one day face what awaited him back in his original reality.
If he could master the power of time and space, maybe he could save his grandfather.
And perhaps, one day, he could use his strength to make a difference in his real world, not just this one.
The thought filled him with a quiet determination. His mind seemed to expand — and along with it, his mental space grew once more, now reaching three meters on each side — a perfect cube of twenty-seven cubic meters.
The meeting eventually turned to more practical matters — the super-soldier serum.
Among the five people present, only Chen Mo, Steve, and Howard had undergone enhancement. Phillips and Carter had not.
Of course, no one knew that Howard had already secretly undergone the procedure while hiding out in London — except Chen Mo.
As they discussed the next candidates, Peggy Carter sat silent, clearly torn. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she bit her lip, lifted her chin, and said firmly:
"Do me first."
Her voice was steady, but her eyes burned with resolve.
If anyone in the room understood the yearning for strength, it was her.
As a woman in a man's army — in an era that barely tolerated her presence — she had fought twice as hard for half the recognition. Determined and unyielding, Peggy Carter needed the power to prove herself, not just to others, but to herself.
Even without knowing the details — even though Chen Mo had deliberately downplayed the effects of the new serum — she volunteered without hesitation.
Chen Mo gave her a knowing look, then turned to the colonel.
Phillips merely shrugged.
"I'm an old man," he said dryly. "A stronger old man's still an old man. Let her have it."
Seeing no objection, Chen Mo nodded and faced Carter.
"Are you sure? Even with the doctor's improvements, the process is still painful."
Steve's brows furrowed with worry. Howard, meanwhile, gave Chen Mo a suspicious side-eye — something in his tone smelled like mischief.
But Peggy met Chen Mo's gaze squarely, nodding with unwavering resolve.
Then she turned to Steve, her eyes softening.
"If this makes me look like you," she said teasingly, "will it be… hideous?"
For all her courage, she was still a woman — and no woman, however brave, was indifferent to beauty. She feared becoming some bulky, muscle-bound version of herself, like a soldier stripped of grace.
Steve met her gaze with utter sincerity.
"If it does," he said gently, "then we'll finally match."