After the mission's success, Steve requested that Howard make a few upgrades to his combat gear. The armor was repainted in brilliant red, white, and blue, topped with the silver star — the classic colors of his homeland. His alloy combat suit now gleamed with a patriotic sheen, looking even more striking and imposing than the one Chen Mo remembered from the films.
Steve hadn't forgotten his original ideal: to serve his country.
Even though his mission had now expanded to protecting the Earth and maintaining global peace, he still wanted to carry his flag — to fight for his nation as part of something greater.
Peggy Carter, freshly enhanced and no less determined, refused to be left behind.
"I want in," she declared. "Give me my own team — and the same armor and shield you gave them. I'll fight Hydra alongside you."
No one doubted her resolve.
Over the past six months, she had built an intelligence network nearly from scratch — recruiting agents, training operatives, and turning it into one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most vital divisions. With capable personnel now able to handle day-to-day operations, she finally had the freedom — and the desire — to take the field herself.
Neither Chen Mo nor Colonel Phillips objected. Unlike most men of their era, they had no prejudice against women in command. They both knew exactly what Carter was capable of — and how much she had already sacrificed for the organization.
As one of the top agents of the Strategic Scientific Reserve, Peggy had been trained in both marksmanship and close-quarters combat. She'd even spent time under Chen Mo's direct tutelage, honing her hand-to-hand skills to near-perfection.
Now, with the super-soldier serum coursing through her veins, her physical power was formidable. Combined with a custom-made Adamantium battle suit and shield, her safety was more than guaranteed — she'd be a force to be reckoned with.
And Chen Mo, ever the schemer, wasn't about to miss an opportunity to nudge the Steve–Peggy relationship along.
He casually handed Steve a detailed sheet — covered in precise columns and measurements.
"Take this," he said solemnly. "You'll need to get her exact body dimensions. Every single one. The armor must be tailored to perfection."
Steve's face went crimson. He stared down at the paper, speechless.
Part of him wanted to protest — Why didn't you need my measurements when you made mine, Master?
But he wasn't stupid. He could tell exactly what Chen Mo was doing. And if he dared to call him out, he'd likely end up flat on his back.
Besides, deep down, he was grateful.
For all of Chen Mo's "tactics," everything he did came from genuine care.
In truth, Chen Mo didn't need any measurements. With his precise vision and spatial sense, Peggy's body proportions were already mapped in his mind like a living 3D model — far more accurate than anything on that paper.
Peggy, of course, had no idea.
When Chen Mo "delegated" the task, she blushed, but didn't refuse.
Composed as she was, even she couldn't quite hide the faint red creeping up her cheeks. Still, in front of everyone, she lifted her chin, gave Steve a sidelong glance, and said briskly,
"Well, Captain, let's get it over with."
Then, back straight and face calm, she turned and strode toward her quarters.
Steve froze on the spot, unsure whether to follow.
Chen Mo gave him a sharp glare.
"What are you waiting for? Want me to do it myself?"
Steve nearly jumped. "N-no, sir!" And he hurried after her.
Howard watched them go, eyes full of envy. He sidled up to Chen Mo, grinning ingratiatingly.
"Boss, maybe I should be your apprentice too. I'm single, you're clearly good at matchmaking, and your dear godson could use a little family stability."
"Get lost!"
Chen Mo's eyes narrowed as he kicked him square in the backside.
Three days without a beating and this guy was already getting bold again — did he think this was a matchmaking service?
Howard yelped and tried to dodge, his reflexes greatly enhanced from the serum. But Chen Mo's speed was far beyond his reach — before he could even turn, Chen Mo's boot connected, sending him sprawling.
Useless. Absolutely useless.
Chen Mo remembered how, right after his enhancement, Howard had been all fired up, eager to learn combat. For a time, under Chen Mo's "hands-on" instruction, his progress had been rapid.
But once he could barely hold his own against Huang Quan and Han Qing in a four-on-one spar, he quit.
"I'm R&D," he'd said. "As long as I can protect myself, I'm good."
And now, seeing Steve's master personally meddle in his love life, Howard had the nerve to come begging for the same treatment.
Chen Mo had zero interest in taking on such a lazy disciple. Let him stick to his inventions — the battlefield wasn't for him. Without Chen Mo watching his back, his "battlefield enthusiasm" would get him killed in five minutes flat.
Besides, Chen Mo didn't even know who Howard's future wife would be. If he introduced the wrong woman and ended up with a daughter instead of Tony Stark, he'd never forgive himself.
"Jenny Stark"? No thanks. Next time I come back, I'd be strangling Howard demanding my Iron Man armor back.
So, no — Howard's love life would be his own problem.
Chen Mo wasn't meddling for fun anyway. He just couldn't stand the tragic ending the movies had given Steve and Peggy.
As their mentor, friend, and comrade, he refused to let that heartbreak happen again.
He'd already rewritten so much of this world's fate, but he knew the universe had its own inertia.
Bucky's capture, Steve's rescue, the Hydra base — events kept aligning with the original timeline.
It was as if the Marvel world itself resisted change.
Soon, he would have to leave again. Before that happened, he wanted to make sure these two had the future they deserved — together.
No one knew exactly what went on during Steve's "measurement session," but everyone noticed the change afterward. The two of them were clearly closer — exchanging quiet glances, brushing hands, small gestures that spoke volumes.
Chen Mo smiled approvingly.
Howard, on the other hand, looked like he'd swallowed a lemon — and, against all common sense, made another attempt to "apprentice" himself.
The result? Predictable.
He learned — painfully — that some risks weren't worth taking.
Hydra Base — Poland
Far away, Baron Strucker stood in the shadow of an enormous steel frame — the skeleton of a massive aircraft. His eyes gleamed with ambition.
Before him lay the Valkyrie, Hydra's greatest masterpiece — a bomber of unprecedented size and power.
Construction was already more than halfway done. But manpower shortages had brought the project to a crawl. The recent destruction of the super-bomb factory had crippled their munitions supply as well.
Hydra still possessed the knowledge, the blueprints, the technology — but not enough hands to wield it.
Their scientists were brilliant. Their engineers, peerless.
But production required labor, and Hydra had none to spare.
The grand "Doomsday Project" demanded vast resources and workforce — and for the first time, Baron Strucker realized that ambition alone wasn't enough.
What he needed now… was bodies.
And soon, he would find a way to get them.