A rapidly spinning disc flew toward Steve's head and smacked him squarely in the forehead. The frail figure it hit collapsed to the ground, dazed and unable to get back up.
A soldier hurried over, checked on his frail comrade, then reported, "Reporting, sir. Steve has passed out!"
The instructor couldn't help covering his face with his hand. This soldier Dr. Erskine had forced on him was simply too painful to watch.
Aside from his burning enthusiasm, Steve ranked last in every other area. He could even pass out after running a little too far under the sun.
If he could get knocked out by something as simple as throwing a disc, an activity that was practically a game, how was anyone supposed to train a soldier like that?
A kilometer away, Luo Xia watched the scene from a state of complete optical invisibility through his Tactical Goggles, then shook his head helplessly. Rogers was far behind everyone else in physical fitness, and willpower alone couldn't bridge that gap.
Still, Luo Xia could never have guessed that seventy years later, Rogers would hurl a disc several times larger than this one into his subordinate Belcher's face.
Luo Xia had to do a lot of explaining before Rogers understood why he was supposed to wait seventy years before delivering a message. Rogers was still skeptical about the so-called time capsule, after all. The average American lifespan was less than seventy years, so how could he possibly live to see that day?
But since it was a friend's request, Rogers promised he would do it. He even carefully wrote something like a will and put it away, in case he didn't live that long and someone else had to pass on the message.
Then Rogers continued along the path fate had laid