The Marvel Experiment : Chapter 1 : Who are You?!

Doc Link

Disclaimer - I don’t own Marvel, Disney, or whatever IP I might end up using in this fic. Duh, if I owned those companies, I would be some douchebag billionaire trying to turn people’s lives miserable. Since I don’t, I will instead be using my creativity and imagination, towards something productive, and yes, relaxing is productive.

New York

–Steve Rogers–

His eyes widened as his punch was stopped cold by a hand coming out of a dark mist. Disengaging immediately, he leaped back and took stock of the situation. He did not have any odd food in the morning, no odd drinks either, and there was no smell in the air that might indicate any drugs being pumped into the gym.

Even if there were any of such things pumped into the room, he would have realized and more importantly, his body would have gotten rid of them with ease. He knew from field experience that even the most poisonous of substances could only really hinder him for a couple of hours and after some experimentation with Howard, they figured out that he built immunity over multiple exposures and set about exposing him to the most horrible cocktails of poisons and drugs that Howard could find or make, making him the most resistance human on the planet.

Next, his eyes noted anything around him that could be used as a weapon and after finding none that might help with someone who could stop a punch with all his power behind it, he settled on finding the nearest exit and the fastest way to get out of this space, even if it might bruise him after breaking through old construction walls.

His eyes never strayed too far from the black mist floating in the same place, the hand having disappeared into the mist. Some sort of super soldier? Something modern?

That can’t be right. He was assured, repeatedly, that he was the only living Super Soldier at this point in time. Maybe they meant successful Super soldiers? Because whoever this was, it did not look like a success, depending on who looked at it.

All of these thoughts ran through his mind in a couple of seconds as he lifted his fists,  “Identify yourself!

The mist wavered for a moment before it began dispersing, from the bottom. He made sure to keep the mist in sight, as heavy boots along with shiny black pants were revealed. Slowly, the belts having multiple things with lights on them became visible. 

Most likely grenades of some sort.

He continued to observe, analyse and record it for reporting purposes as the mist finally reached the area around the neck and stopped there. Before he could say anything else, the man, and it was most definitely a man, slumped forward for some reason. A sigh echoed in the room as the black mist disbursed all at once and he…

“Jesus!” He involuntarily recoiled at the face that was revealed to him. 

A mocking chuckle came from the man with a dead and decaying face, with holes in his face attached to him, “Ha! Even the most noble and gentlemanly of Captain Americas could not resist doing that.” 

He actually felt bad at that. It was not his intention, but still, something about that face and that voice felt familiar to him. He could not really place his finger on it but that tone, that speaking pattern, it really resonated with him.

“Figured it out?”

He relaxed as the man, whoever and whatever he was, did not seem to be in the mood to attack him. That could be easily inferred from the body language but judging by the face, he could not really confirm anything, save for the fact he did not feel any inherent danger from the man.

“Who are you?” HE pressed the question because something about the man was bugging him. His eyes narrowed as he saw a piece of clothing attached to his shoulder, a half star visible on it. A really familiar half star.

The man chuckled, “I am…dead. Someone chewed and spit out by death herself. Inconsequential in the long term. You, on the other hand, you still have time.” The man said, half to himself and half to Steve.

“What are you talking about?” He was really confused at this point as his mind struggled to accept whatever this new weird reality was, for him. Was something like this common in this time period? Were wraiths common at this point?

The man waved his hand in the air, “Ignore that, not important right now. I am here for something far more important and unlike you, I don’t have much time.”

His brows furrowed, “What do you mean? Are you dying? Do you need help, can I–”

He was interrupted by a full blown out laughter from the man as the dead and bone thin man hunched over, laughing. His laughter was free, rich, and yet, somewhat shrill as if the throat was producing a voice it had forgotten to.

“Oh, that was rich. No, I did not come here to seek help. I came here to help YOU.”

“Me?”

“Yes, but before we do any of that, why don’t I ask you a question? WHO ARE YOU?”

The question struck him like a physical blow as he felt the gym darken imperceptibly, all of the light being drawn towards the spectre like being in the center who was looking at him with the intensity of the sun and for some reason, his mind couldn't even conjure the image of moving, or running or doing anything to oppose the higher being.

“WHO ARE YOU? ARE YOU STEVE ROGERS? ARE YOU CAPTAIN AMERICA? ARE YOU THE POSTER BOY FOR THE GOVERNMENT RESPONSIBLE FOR SELLING WAR BONDS?”

Each and every question hit him like a ton of bricks, shaking his resolve as his hand began trembling. The mere thought of running, or fighting back in response to an attack vaporised from his mind as he was forced to ponder on the questions posed to him. 

“ARE YOU SOMEONE WHO IS CONTENT SITTING BACK SIMPLY BECAUSE THE WORLD SEEMINGLY MOVED ON WITHOUT YOU? ARE YOU CAPABLE OF DOING THAT?”

Each and every word ringing like a thunderclap in his mind as the visions of days gone by assaulted his mind, stopping him from making a coherent thought or speaking his mind. The memories of his days before he met Erskeine, the days of being rescued by Bucky.

The Super Soldier process. The pain, the feeling of his entire body burning from the inside out. The sheer pain and confusion he felt when he watched Dr.Erskeine die in his arms, someone who trusted him enough to entrust ending the war to him.

“ARE YOU SOMEONE WHO WILL BLINDLY FOLLOW ORDERS? OR ARE YOU SOMEONE WHO WILL PUSH BACK, DOESN’T MATTER WHO IS ON THE OTHER END?”

The sheer exhilaration and the rush he felt when he used his newfound strength and speed to track down the person who killed the Doctor.

The feeling of being paraded around the country, being told to raise War Bonds for the war effort, to contribute to the war effort in some way.

Then, he entered the War, rescuing Bucky, being officially enlisted, getting his SHIELD.

Meeting Peggy, befriending Howard. The Howling Commandos.

The final fight, the bombs, the jet, the ice, and then…nothing.

“TELL ME! WHO ARE YOU?!” He stepped back as he felt the bony fingers press into his chest, punctuating with every word of the question.

And in that moment, when his mind was literally crumbling from questions asked by a higher being, whose mere presence was melting the reality around him, who was testing him, the answer came to him.

Through the overwhelming pressure, all of a sudden, nothing mattered anymore. It was as if he was 10 years old again, helping his mother do her tasks around the house. She worked hard after his father died, to provide for him and he tried his best to help her, given his frail body.

Through the haze, he remembered a single moment. After a particularly hot summer day, he was left panting after helping his mother with simple day to day tasks and the words that his mother spoke to him came to the forefront of his mind, pushing away the fog.

“My little Hero,” She said as she wiped away his sweat, “Always remember Stevie, It isn’t about how big you are. It’s about how big your heart is. You stand up for what’s right, even when it’s hard—especially when it’s hard. That’s what makes a man, and you my little hero, are the bravest man I know.”

All of a sudden, his mind was clear once more. He could see and think clearly, the fog of doubt clinging to his mind gone. He looked straight ahead, with conviction he had not felt ever since he woke up in this new, dangerous, and vastly different world.

“I am who I always was, and always will be. I am Steve Rogers.”

The words seemed to throw the man in front of him in a loop as the very air around him seemed to distort after he uttered the words as if the world itself was acknowledging his answer.

The man took a step back, his head bowed, muttering something as everything returned to its normal state. He caught the tail end of what the madman was saying.

“He was right. There really has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

Before he could comment on that, the dead man looked up and the grin on his face would have been very disturbing had it not been for streaks of black that streaked his face. It looked like he was crying?

“Ah,” The spectre said as he wiped his face of the presumably tears, “Forgive me. I was just..taken aback, that’s all. Never thought I would meet you after all these years.”

“What are you saying? If you are just going to speak in riddles, you can leave. I can forgive the attack this once but even I have limits.” He spoke in a stern voice.

“Oh, I got it. Don’t worry, I only have serious business after this. You, Steve Rogers, are worthy.” There was thunderclaps in the distance at the proclamation, even though the weather forecast had a clear sky.

“I am tired of repeating it. What is it that you want?” He asked in a no nonsense tone that somehow pleased the man in front of him, judging by the widening grin on his face.

“Oh, you will do just fine, Steve Rogers.”