PS: Brain Storage Room (Tie up a zombie here and let it enjoy a brain-buffet, thanks for the feeding)
Note: The protagonist's soul transmigrates. This is not your traditional Captain America—he's a flirt, crude, and an anti-hero. Don't look at him through a "Cap filter."
In the end, whether you get it or not—just read on and you'll understand!
"Holy shit!"
One "holy shit" marks the end of a life.
That expletive wasn't just shock—it also announced the death of one man.
As Roger watched a pink, anime-style Itasha truck hurtle toward him at terrifying speed, he seriously wondered if he was dreaming.
After all, how could something like an anime-themed pain truck exist in real life?
At least, that was the last coherent thought in his head before the truck going 120 km/h flattened him like a speed bump.
Kid, time to transmigrate!!!
Under the crushing weight of the nation's most powerful heavy truck, Roger didn't even have time to feel pain before his soul flew west.
The next moment, his vision went dark. When he opened his eyes again—he wasn't dreaming. He was encased in ice.
From outside, people were hammering at the ice with chisels as if saying, Hang in there, buddy—we'll get you out!
A cyberpunk rescue?
Yeah, no.
It quickly became clear they weren't saving him out of kindness.
The moment they hauled his frozen body out of the ice, before he'd even regained sensation, these men dragged him toward a bizarre-looking chair.
The design screamed BDSM, the kind of thing you'd see in an interrogation room… or in an 18+ category.
One look at their faces told Roger these guys were definitely not friendly.
But with his body still numb, the only thing he could do was open his eyes a fraction, enough to glimpse the outside world.
He could only watch helplessly as a group of burly men strapped him into that twisted chair.
Hands, feet, head—all locked down. A strange metal helmet was clamped onto his head.
Then a blond, blue-eyed old man stepped forward, grabbed his head, and shook it violently.
His mouth curled into a smirk that was three parts smug, three parts mocking, and ninety-four parts sinister. He leaned in close and hissed in Roger's ear:
"Look who we have here. Isn't this the great hero who defeated Red Skull in World War II and saved the world? The very embodiment of kindness, courage, and justice?"
"Tsk, tsk… Captain Rogers. Tell me—if people discovered that their beloved symbol of hope was actually a Hydra agent, what would they do? I'm curious… aren't you?"
A giant question mark floated above Roger's head.
Motherf— That damn anime truck, where the hell did it send me? Am I even still on Earth?
Hydra? As in Marvel's Hydra?
And… did he just call me Captain Rogers? Defrosted from ice…
Holy shit!
Don't tell me I transmigrated into the Marvel world, and into Captain America, Steve Rogers himself?!
Wait, that doesn't make sense. Even if I was Cap, shouldn't Nick Fury have been the one to thaw me out? How the hell did I end up in Hydra's hands instead?
…Oh. Right. SHIELD is basically crawling with Hydra agents. Ending up here isn't impossible.
Great. Just great.
Talk about a catastrophic opening!
But Roger wasn't the kind to give up easily. So what if he'd been caught by Hydra from the get-go?
My fate is mine to decide. No one else gets to choose my path!
That bold thought lasted about three seconds before reality sucker-punched him.
"Rumlow, start the brainwashing device. From today onward, Captain America no longer exists. From now on… he will be our Hydra Captain!"
At the blond man's order, a hulking brute pressed a button on the chair.
The helmet clamped down tighter, covering Roger's eyes. A chilling blue light flickered inside.
Buzz!
Electroshock therapy!
Bzzzzzz!
"AAAAH! I—I won't tell you anything!"
A surge of energy shot through Roger's skull and spread across his body, like every nerve gate had been forced open.
To put it bluntly: he was about to piss himself from the shock.
But under the brutal current, his frozen, rigid body actually started regaining sensation. His brain whirred to life, and with it came a flood of memories.
Skinny weakling. Military enlistment. The experiment. Super Soldier Serum. The transformation into a muscle-bound monster. The clownish propaganda shows. Rescuing comrades. Fighting Hydra. Defeating Red Skull. Finally, plunging into the Arctic with the Tesseract…
This was Steve Rogers—the life of Captain America.
Roger could clearly feel that as these memories fused into his own, another soul inside this body was slowly fading away.
Captain Rogers, who had spent his entire life clinging to his ideals of justice, wasn't rejecting this foreign soul. Instead, he shielded Roger from Hydra's brainwashing at the cost of his own spirit.
Perhaps this body had carried two souls from the very start—the transmigrant Roger, and the original Steve Rogers.
Having learned from Hydra's mouth that seventy years had passed, Steve already knew he didn't belong in this era.
These memories were his final gift, his last tether to this world.
And Steve Rogers himself… perhaps he was off to attend that dance he'd missed for seventy years.
When the memories fully merged, Steve Rogers' soul completely vanished.
From this moment on—Roger was Captain America. He was the real man now.
But with Steve's soul gone, Roger couldn't withstand the brainwashing machine's high-voltage shocks any longer. His consciousness began to blur.
The last thing he heard before blacking out was:
"Steve Rogers' memories have been erased. The brainwashing was a success. All that remains is to implant Hydra's ideology—and soon, he'll serve us like the Winter Soldier."
Winter Soldier… Bucky…
Time passed.
A year later.
New York City. Manhattan's wealthy district.
♪ You are my little sunshine rainbow pony, di-di-da-da, di-di-da ♪
In a five-hundred-square-meter mansion, a shrill ringtone yanked Steve from a five-meter-wide bed.
(TN: From here on, he'll be referred to as Steve or Rogers. Only internal monologues may still use "Roger.")
Shoving aside the two pretty faces resting against his chest, Steve groggily reached for the endlessly ringing phone on the nightstand.
His voice was thick with irritation as he answered:
"Whoever you are—if you can't give me a damn good reason, I swear I'll shove your head straight up your ass!"
A long silence. Then came Nick Fury's deep, gravelly voice:
"Captain Rogers… sometimes I really wonder how the hell you were ever chosen as a Super Soldier. Or how you became the revered Captain America. Or did those decades in Arctic ice freeze your brain?"
Realizing it was Fury, Steve let out a cold laugh, showing not a hint of respect.
"Life changes, Director. Times change. People change. Just like I never imagined that decades later, my boss would turn out to be a walking cotton ball machine."