Chapter Five: The New Captain America Project

George pondered for a moment and said, “At least in all my years on the force, I’ve truly never seen anything like it.”

Indeed, George had witnessed far too much of the world’s darkness, which was precisely why he didn’t want Gwen to face it herself.

“But he’s different.”

Gwen couldn’t quite find the words to explain.

“How is he different?” George pressed.

“I really admire him, truly. Never mind, I can’t make you understand.”

With that, Gwen turned her head away, leaving George full of questions. What could possibly be so captivating about a crippled man? Still, there was something oddly familiar about that fellow—had he seen him somewhere before?

That sense of familiarity didn’t bode well. George decided that once he got home, he’d look into it thoroughly and find out what this man was truly capable of.

...

“Hello, Dr. Michael.”

The newcomer didn’t underestimate Michael because of his frail appearance; instead, he bowed his head with considerable respect.

“The boss asked me to take you directly to the top floor—he’ll meet you there.”

“Very well.”

The two of them ascended to the top floor. To call it an office would be misleading—it was more of a vast penthouse villa, a level of luxury only the most ruthless capitalists could afford. One couldn’t help but feel envious.

It was reminiscent of Tony Stark’s Stark Tower, with the very top reserved as Tony’s private domain, filled not only with his suits but also the finest wines and a sprawling bed. Enviable, indeed. Someday, I shall build a Morbius Tower of my own, with the top two floors as my private office and laboratory.

Norman Osborn greeted Michael warmly as soon as he saw him. “My dear Michael, I came straight out of the lab the moment I got your call, and sent my secretary to bring you up. I trust she was suitably attentive?”

The secretary kept her head bowed, refraining from comment. Michael smiled and said, “A most courteous and elegant lady—not surprising, coming from Mr. Osborn’s office.”

“Would you care for some wine?” Norman uncorked a bottle and gestured to Michael.

“A little, perhaps, but only a small amount.”

Alcohol aided circulation, but Michael couldn’t afford much.

Norman poured two glasses and raised his. “Let’s toast to your joining us.”

“To partnership.”

After a sip, Norman, himself a preeminent biologist, showed that he understood Michael’s condition well.

“Now, to business. If you decide not to join us, you’ll be bound to secrecy—permanently—until the product is released.”

Norman Osborn placed an agreement and a pen on the table.

Michael glanced over it—it was indeed a non-disclosure agreement—and signed it without hesitation. Still, he was curious: what could be so significant that even Norman Osborn felt the need for a contract?

Without the Green Goblin persona, Norman was an ambitious yet magnanimous man with true charisma. As the Goblin, he’d formed the Sinister Six, the Dark Avengers, H.A.M.M.E.R., and more.

Norman’s mood improved further at Michael’s swift signature—a mark of trust. In reality, Michael had read and analyzed the entire document in a single glance, ensuring there were no traps before signing.

“I happen to have a vital scientific project underway,” Norman said. “With your help, I believe we could surpass Howard...”

Michael’s brow furrowed.

Howard Stark!

In this world, it would be no exaggeration to call him the foremost scientific mind of the modern era. To surpass him...

What was Norman planning? Trying to replicate Tony’s birth, perhaps?

“Come with me, please.”

Though puzzled, Michael followed. They entered a laboratory—empty, evidently Norman’s private workspace.

“During World War II, Howard Stark developed a serum to enhance the human body—thus creating Steve Rogers, who ultimately changed the course of the war.”

Publicly, America portrayed Steve as a godlike hero, a super-soldier who won the war. But the true upper echelons knew: Steve was the result of genetic modification.

Now, Michael finally understood what Norman wanted from him.

“So that’s it. The legendary Steve was actually a product of genetic engineering.”

Though he’d known, Michael feigned surprise.

“Do you know why there was only ever one Steve?” Norman asked.

“Why? Was he the only survivor?”

“No, he was the only one ever tested.”

“How could that be?” Michael put on an astonished face.

Norman himself found it incredible. He’d once suspected deception, but now—since the military needed to recreate the serum—there was no reason to keep secrets for Howard’s sake.

“But it’s true. Out of countless soldiers, they selected Steve Rogers. Once his transformation succeeded, the military saw hope for an entire army.”

Nonsense, Michael scoffed inwardly. The super serum had side effects—it amplified emotions, meaning very few were truly compatible.

“Then, a Hydra agent appeared, destroyed the remaining serum, and all the research data.”

“Even Howard couldn’t restore the data or replicate the serum overnight. And then he died.”

Rubbish. Steve Rogers was the perfect product; there would never be another like him, and that was why Howard never tried again. Dr. Erskine, who led the serum research, had also died. Relying on Howard’s memory alone, with inevitable gaps, recreating the serum would be starting from scratch. So the project was shelved.

Besides, the concept of the serum was outdated. There were certainly other facilities besides Osborn’s still researching it.

Norman’s version was already somewhat obsolete.

And did Norman really think that recreating the serum would make him surpass Howard? Howard’s proudest achievement was Tony Stark, after all.

If it came down to comparing sons, the gap between the two was vast. Tony was a super-genius, while Harry’s talents were distinctly average—so much so that Norman sometimes looked down on his own son’s intellect, communicating little with him and maintaining a strained relationship. Perhaps that was why Norman seemed to favor Peter, who was clearly brighter.

“So this project is called the New Captain America Initiative?”

“That’s right.”

What a disaster, Kaisha’s voice sounded in his mind.

“Master, the super serum transformed Steve Rogers—a sickly, frail youth—into a super-soldier with massive physique.”

“That proves the serum itself can cure all sorts of ailments.”

“You might as well join the project; the serum could be used to heal your own body, too.”

It was a valid point. But aside from pushing the body’s stats to human limits, the super serum didn’t seem to offer much else—Michael certainly didn’t have Captain America’s plot armor.

Moreover, after injection, the good became better and the bad worse—would he still be himself then?

From what he could see, only Spider-Man’s mutation had the least side effects, but Spider-Man’s destiny always seemed reserved for the chosen few.

“No matter if it’s the super serum or the vampire bat serum, they all alter personality while strengthening the body. Perhaps there’s a commonality. Either way, researching the serum will help me gain experience.”