Experiment Day.
Brooklyn, inside an underground laboratory disguised as an antique shop.
Lynn followed Dr. Erskine, bringing along Steve Rogers, who wore a brand-new Military uniform but still looked frail, into this sanctuary that was about to witness a miracle or destruction.
Above the laboratory.
Behind the thick bulletproof observation window stood a crowd of suit-wearing congressmen and generals with stars on their shoulders.
They looked like a group of gamblers about to place their bets, nervously watching the casino below.
Lynn did not crowd in with them; he chose to stay below, at the scene.
He noticed that besides the Military police standing straight and looking ahead, something felt off in the shadows.
A janitor responsible for cleaning had wiped the same corner three times.
His gaze kept inadvertently sweeping over the equipment Howard Stark had brought.
A young adjutant standing behind the general had a posture even more standard than the general himself, yet his eyes were locked onto the small blue vials below.
These people were not HYDRA.
They lacked the hysterical madness of HYDRA, instead exuding the iron-blooded discipline and obedience typical of soldiers.
Someone within the Military had also set their sights on this fat piece of meat.
Interesting.
He was not the only one wanting to fish in troubled waters.
This discovery did not make him retreat; rather, it made his nerves even more excited.
The muddier the water, the better to catch fish.
All Lynn wanted was to obtain the one thing he desired at that most chaotic moment.
Center of the laboratory.
Steve Rogers lay on the experimental table.
His frail body formed an absurd contrast with the massive, complex machines surrounding him.
Dr. Erskine walked over to his side, leaned down, and gave his final instructions like a loving father.
"Steve, no matter what happens, remember to stay true to yourself and be a good man."
Steve nodded.
He was nervous, but there was not a hint of retreat in his eyes.
"Energy injection, start!"
Howard Stark.
This perpetually flashy genius was focused at this moment, shouting as he closed the power switch.
"Hum—!"
The lights in the entire laboratory dimmed for a moment, and countless currents converged into a blinding white light, surging toward the Vita-Ray chamber in the center.
"Ahhhh—!"
Steve's scream pierced everyone's eardrums.
The congressmen behind the observation window gasped.
"The energy is overloading! Stark! Stop it!"
Peggy Carter shouted anxiously into the communicator.
"No! I... I can do it! Continue!"
Inside the experimental chamber, Steve's roar was intermittent, revealing his tenacity.
"Believe in him! Believe in Steve!"
Dr. Erskine's eyes were full of madness and trust.
Seeing that both of them said so, Howard had no choice.
Gritting his teeth and looking at the red readings soaring wildly on the dashboard, he ultimately chose to trust his companions and continued to increase the energy injection.
The energy reading hit its peak.
Just as everyone's heart jumped into their throats, it suddenly dropped to zero.
The machines stopped roaring.
The door of the experimental chamber opened slowly.
Amidst the swirling white steam, a figure stood up.
No longer that frail Brooklyn kid.
He was tall and robust, every inch of muscle looking like a masterpiece carved by Michelangelo himself.
He looked at his hands in confusion, feeling the surging, brand-new power within him.
Steve Rogers had been reborn.
The next second, thunderous applause and cheers erupted from behind the observation window.
The generals were flushed with excitement, and the congressmen saw the dawn of victory in the war.
Dr. Erskine's eyes welled up with tears.
He tremblingly opened his arms and walked toward his "child," toward the greatest masterpiece of his life.
This was the most glorious moment.
"BOOM!!!"
The sudden explosion made everyone quickly take cover.
Immediately after, a dull "pfft" sound rang out.
Dr. Erskine, who was walking toward Steve, paused.
He looked down at his lab coat.
At the position of the left chest pocket where he was accustomed to keeping his notebook, a crimson bloodstain was rapidly blooming.
The joy on his face turned into confusion and bewilderment.
He raised his head, took one last look at that brand-new, perfect Steve, and his body went limp, falling backward.
Chaos exploded!
"Assassin!"
"Protect the congressmen!"
Screams, roars, and the metallic sound of guards drawing their guns mixed together like a pot of boiling water.
Peggy Carter reacted the fastest; she had already locked onto the HYDRA spy who was fleeing quickly after firing the shot and decisively gave chase.
Steve.
The man who had just gained god-like power was stunned by the fall of his creator.
For a moment, he stood there frozen.
Lynn took action immediately.
He wasn't the first to spot the assassin, but he was the first to rush toward Dr. Erskine!
"Dr.!"
His roar was shrill, filled with unbelievable grief.
His acting was good enough to win an Academy Award.
In everyone's eyes, this young reporter who had always respected Dr. Erskine was rushing recklessly toward his mentor and friend.
He threw himself beside Dr. Erskine and fell heavily to his knees, as if to use his own flesh and blood to shield him from a potential second shot.
"Doctor! Call a Doctor quickly!"
He held Dr. Erskine, screaming at the top of his lungs, the veins on his neck bulging.
A flawless performance.
Under the cover of his body, Lynn's right hand reached out silently and swiftly.
His fingers, without a hint of tremor, reached into the inner pocket on the left chest of Dr. Erskine, which was soaked in blood.
His fingertips touched the warm, hard texture of leather.
This was it.
Without the slightest hesitation.
His middle and index fingers clamped onto the notebook, and using the slight movement of "adjusting his posture," he exerted force with his arm muscles.
That notebook, which condensed the peak of human wisdom and was worth a fortune, slid silently out of the pocket.
It slid along his forearm and hid quietly deep into his wide sleeve.
When he looked up, his hands were covered in Dr. Erskine's blood, and his face was left with only devastated panic.
He gently shook the old man in his arms who had already lost his vital signs, his voice hoarse with despair.
"Dr.? Dr., wake up... Look at him... Look at your masterpiece..."
His performance fooled everyone.
The newborn Captain America watched the "father" who created him die in someone else's arms, his eyes filled only with confusion and anger.
Lynn knelt on the ground, holding the cooling corpse.
That notebook, which would determine the future of humanity, was pressed tightly against the skin of his arm, carrying the lingering warmth of the deceased and the fresh scent of blood.
Dr. Erskine was dead.
A legend of an era had come to an end.
But the spark he left behind had not been extinguished.
One part was inside Steve Rogers.
And the other, the most original spark, was in Lynn's sleeve.
Lynn raised his head, his bloodshot eyes looking toward the super soldier standing there, at a loss.
A hero was born.
And he, he had stolen the manual for creating heroes.
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