The Enhancement Begins

Soon afterward, the five candidates arrived at the human enhancement lab after having their bodies cleaned and disinfected.

Wei Xiuming's voice rang out over the PA system. "To the five future Knight System candidates, thank you for what you're doing for humanity. Heroes are always lonely and in pain, and the transformation from an ordinary person into a hero is full of twists and turns. You were able to win this opportunity out of a million people. Personally, I find that deeply gratifying and admirable."

Admirable? Who would compete for something that offered no benefits? The U.S. military wasn't exactly an army of the people.

Even though he'd spent a long time in the hospital afterward, Sonon had become a hero after being the first to officially wear the Knight System and defeat the Insects single-handedly. The military had promoted him extensively, and if he'd wanted to run for president, he'd have been a very strong candidate.

Several companies had even invited Sonon to join them as an executive after he left the military. It wasn't clear what he'd be in charge of, but it was probably one of those jobs where he'd get paid a fortune without having to do any work.

Sonon was smart. He knew that the aura of heroism around him was a fluke, and that it was all thanks to the Knight System. He hadn't let the praise go to his head. When he learned that there were only a limited number of places for Knight System candidates and they'd have to compete for them, he pulled some strings and got himself in.

It wasn't exactly a case of favoritism. The U.S. military's publicity campaign had been so widespread that it had even fooled plenty of its own people. When those in charge of selection saw that Sonon, a national hero, had applied, they'd let him through without a second thought. Of course, Sonon was also an excellent pilot with outstanding physical fitness and plenty of skill to begin with. Add his reputation to the mix, and it would've been a scandal if he'd been rejected.

The five elites strapped to the operating tables had all been chosen in much the same way. They were aiming to become superheroes among superheroes, then be widely promoted as the next Captain America. If Captain America had lived to the present day, his image rights alone would've earned him a place among the wealthy. The annual net profits from products bearing his likeness would've exceeded the pre-tax revenue of some major companies.

Before coming, they'd watched footage of the human transformation—that is, Steve Rogers receiving Dr. Erskine's Potion and becoming Captain America. To them, that one-minute enhancement process looked like something they could endure by gritting their teeth.

They'd become the next Captain America through the transformation, then risen to fame across all fifty states. They'd fight the Insects, appear on TV shows to promote things, write books, take endorsement deals, and go from excellent soldiers to millionaires.

In America, money was freedom, and how much freedom you had depended on how rich you were.

Although they'd have to share the honor with four other people, which meant splitting any potential profits, even a fifth of the take would be impressive. After all, Captain America's status as a one-of-a-kind hero had come about through a series of coincidences.

First, Red Skull's assassin had somehow managed to infiltrate the site of Captain America's transformation without arousing suspicion. The routine searches hadn't found the firearm he'd hidden on himself, either. Dr. Erskine had made Red Skull with his Potion, and, afraid it would be misused, he'd committed the formula to memory rather than writing it down. When the assassin shot him, he died without leaving behind a single word.

The finished Erskine's Potion had also been smashed by the assassin when he realized he had no chance of escaping. The modern Super Soldier Serum was essentially reverse-engineered from Captain America's blood samples, and it had a very high failure rate. Not long ago, an experiment led by an Air Force general had failed. They hadn't managed to produce a proper super-soldier; instead, the scientist leading the experiment had turned into a green monster.

So, with an opportunity like this, they had to seize it.

But for all their careful planning, they hadn't reckoned on Wei Xiuming being an unscrupulous scientist. The basic human-enhancement process, refined at the cost of nearly a hundred homeless people, had become so simple that it was dirt cheap. The whole process could be done for just eighteen thousand dollars. With the right equipment and a good grasp of the steps, even a high school student could operate the machines and turn an ordinary person into something superhuman.

But to impress the high-ranking officials who'd come to watch, Wei Xiuming had made the enhancement process as complicated as possible.

Once he pressed the button to start the enhancement setup, the whole lab sprang into action. The staff took their assigned positions, just as they'd rehearsed. The rest was simple: the five candidates were strapped to the operating tables, electrodes were attached to their bodies, and the monitors beside them filled with complicated lines and numbers that looked like a stock-market graph. A simple three-dimensional model of a human body displayed the condition of their organs.

Then an automated device precisely inserted a syringe needle into each of their blood vessels, slowly injecting the contents into their bodies.

The monitors displayed the data in real time. If there was a significant fluctuation, a staff member would report it aloud, and Wei Xiuming, as the one in charge, would decide what to do.

In truth, what they'd injected into the five elites was nothing but glucose. Their increased heart rates and the like were normal reactions. Anyone would get nervous after being stuck with a needle, let alone when they were strapped to an upright operating table by a mechanical contraption and injected with a mystery substance.

Still, no one challenged Wei Xiuming when he called it a human-enhancement drug. He was the expert, after all—just as the U.S. Secretary of State could hold up a tube of suspicious white powder that looked like laundry detergent, declare it a weapon of mass destruction, and start a war.

The U.S. had the biggest stick. Its annual military spending was the highest in the world, and the next ten countries combined spent less than half as much. With its immense national power and a financial system that made the whole world pay for its wars, no one could question its actions.

It was like getting a tooth pulled. Back home, if you had a wisdom tooth removed, the dentist would first examine it with the naked eye. If it was impacted, you'd need an X-ray. Then they'd run blood tests, have you sign a surgical consent form, and give you anesthetic. Once it took effect, a simple case would be over in less than a minute on average.

Across the water in Japan, by contrast, getting a tooth pulled was a positively luxurious experience. It felt less like going to a hospital and more like visiting a massage parlor the South Koreans had opened in Vietnam—almost like being an emperor, at least as a poor slob might imagine it.

The pretty nurses spoke softly, and they'd even warn you before adjusting the operating table, so you'd have time to prepare yourself. They moved as gently as possible, too. If the treatment took a long time, the nurse would adjust the TV to match the angle of your head on the table, so you could pass the time watching the family-friendly Tom and Jerry.

As long as the doctor and nurses didn't turn into elephants or elephant beetles, everything was wonderful.

Of course, for the same dental problem, treatment in Japan cost several times as much as it did back home.

Although they'd only injected a syringe of glucose, the staff kept reporting data and adjusting the machines, making the whole thing look very convincing. They'd spent two whole hours on it, and the people outside still hadn't noticed anything was wrong.

After all, each field had its specialists. Someone could spend years studying medicine at university, with textbooks stacked high enough to touch the dormitory ceiling, and still only be a beginner. Expecting these military men to understand all the human-body data was like expecting the U.S. to elect a spy as president who'd then bring the country to ruin.