"Hello, I'm Howard Stark, in charge of mechanical engineering."
"Hello, I'm Abraham Erskine, in charge of biological genetic engineering."
"Hello, everyone. I'm Allen, in charge of janitorial work."
Allen crossed his arms, his right hand shaking Howard's hand on the left while his left hand shook Dr. Erskine's hand on the right.
The two wore very strange expressions. They had heard that an expert with an abnormal brain was coming, but they had not expected to lose the rhythm the moment he opened his mouth.
Wilson pointed at his head and reminded them, "There's something wrong with him here."
The two nodded in agreement.
At the top of their respective fields, real skill was what mattered.
It was fine for expert Doctors to be a little crazy. What mattered was having insights into the same problems, so they could help each other.
If someone was all show and no substance, they would eventually be kicked out of S.H.I.E.L.D.
After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. did not keep idlers.
"Dr. Allen, we're currently exploring a project to push the human body to its limits. Do you have any suggestions?" Dr. Erskine asked casually.
This scruffy old man was the person in charge of developing the Super Soldier Serum.
Even Howard could only assist from the side, helping build an apparatus capable of fusing the serum.
"If strength isn't enough, make up for it with equipment. Rocket launcher in the left hand, Gatling in the right, then shout Ura! You won't even fear Thanos," Allen said with utter seriousness.
"Sorry, I have work to do."
Dr. Erskine's expression changed as he turned and headed for his workstation.
Not only was he sloppy, he also had a strange personality.
Howard consoled him, "Dr. Erskine only likes dealing with experts who speak the same language."
"It's just Super Soldier Serum. You'd think nobody else could make it."
Allen looked disdainful as he squeezed his armpit. A bold idea immediately popped into his mind.
"You know how to develop serum too?"
Howard's eyes lit up as he considered probing Allen's true capabilities.
"Boil it, stew it, and I can cook up a whole pot."
Didn't the alchemist skill include pharmacology?
Weren't potions just foul-smelling broths that old witches simmered in a pot with spices?
That was how Allen understood it.
Howard frowned, wondering whether Allen had misunderstood something. He kindly reminded him, "The military's top brass will visit in a month. If you can produce results, you can receive considerable funding."
"Wasn't that prepared specifically for me?"
Allen said confidently, "When the time comes, I'll show them something really awesome."
After building some rapport with his colleagues, he moved to his dedicated workspace.
There were plenty of tools set out, and anything else he needed could be brought in.
Wilson's eyes immediately lit up when he saw the rows of precision micro lathes.
"Allen, the precision lathes provided by S.H.I.E.L.D. are more than two generations ahead of those in the Soviet Union."
Wilson stroked one of the machines and could not help sighing. "No wonder America steadily outclasses them technologically. The experts here not only need theoretical knowledge, but the corresponding practical ability as well."
Allen, however, was completely uninterested. He sat listlessly in a chair.
"Allen, what do we do first?"
Having confirmed Allen's real ability, Wilson no longer dared show off. He hoped to witness even more advanced inventions.
"Slack off."
"Slack off?"
Allen said solemnly, "If you don't slack off at work, can it even be called working?"
"..."
That made so much sense that Wilson could not refute it.
In an instant, Wilson's enthusiasm for work was extinguished. He copied Allen and collapsed onto the sofa.
"Slacking off at work feels great, doesn't it?" Allen asked, baring his big front teeth.
"Yeah, it feels great."
Wilson admitted it frankly. At his age, he had truly never enjoyed anything like this before.
"Wilson, it's time to eat. Let's go check out the cafeteria."
"Alright."
From that day onward, S.H.I.E.L.D. gained two idle loafers.
They arrived on time to drink coffee, then lay on the sofa waiting for meals.
Whenever Howard asked, Allen replied that he was conceiving a new weapon.
Wilson naturally said, "I'm just an assistant. What can I do?"
Less than three days later, Colonel Chester Phillips, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founders, arrived with a short, frail-looking young man.
"This is Steve Rogers, the Super Soldier candidate I selected."
Carter, Howard, Erskine, Allen, Wilson, and the others looked at the small, shy future Captain America.
Someone immediately objected to Colonel Phillips's decision.
Dr. Erskine said sternly, "Colonel, you're treating a life like a joke. He's so thin and weak, he simply can't endure the serum. His genes could collapse, and he could die."
He was an expert in biology. No one was qualified to tell him how to do his job.
"I value Steve's character. He dares to stand against the powerful and dares to make sacrifices. He is the most suitable candidate," Colonel Phillips said firmly.
When Steve faced much bigger thugs, he never gave up fighting.
Steve had shielded his teammates by throwing himself over a grenade, willing to make the sacrifice.
Those two points alone had convinced Colonel Phillips that he was the future Captain America.
"Boss, I support you."
Allen walked up to Steve and shook his hand. "Hello, old man. Where's your Bucky?"
"..."
Steve paused for a moment, then understood. "You mean Bucky. He's currently receiving training in the military."
"Forget it, I don't care about your Bucky. Old man, I guarantee I'll turn you into a fierce man with a perky ass."
"..."
Steve's shy personality left him somewhat at a loss when facing Allen.
Everyone naturally ignored Allen. As S.H.I.E.L.D.'s founders, they had already decided to give him another month of observation. If he was still just freeloading, they would throw him out.
The argument grew heated.
In the end, Colonel Phillips used his authority to make the decision on the Super Soldier candidate.
A great deal happened over those three days.
S.H.I.E.L.D. began arranging the serum enhancement procedure.
Soviet Union agents and Hydra agents lurking in America had already secretly contacted Allen.
Allen, who had his heart set on becoming a triple agent, gladly met with them and returned with a small telegraph machine that could transmit information to both factions.
Allen directly leaked the serum plan.
Unusually quiet, Allen was brewing an even bigger prank.
Life was either about causing trouble or preparing to cause trouble.
On the fourth day, before the Super Soldier experiment began.
"Old man, don't be afraid. Everyone has a first time."
Pointing at the apparatus, Allen consoled him, "Just lie down inside. In a moment, it'll malfunction and send you straight to cremation."
Steve's previously calm heart immediately became uneasy.
The apparatus was like a pharaoh's pipework, connected to countless electrical wires. He was truly worried about an electrical leak or fire. If that happened, he would not even be able to escape.
Allen pointed at Howard, who was adjusting and inspecting the equipment, and said, "Trust Old Howard's craftsmanship. If anything goes wrong, they'll bury both the man and the machine together. Guaranteed to leave no evidence behind."
"Can't you say something nice for once?"
Steve's face crumpled. He even had the urge to quit.
Unfortunately, it was too late. Military higher-ups and representatives from all circles had arrived to observe, so he could no longer back out. Besides, Colonel Phillips would definitely shove him into the apparatus by force.
"Fine, something nice. If the serum works, your left and right chest might end up different sizes. One side of your butt could be round while the other is flat. Those aren't serious problems. I know Dr. Chelsea from The League of Assassins. A little silicone padding, and nobody will be able to tell you had work done."
"You really know how to comfort people."
Steve: o(╥﹏╥)o
Before you continue