S.H.I.E.L.D.
"How is he?"
"His vital signs are normal. For someone who's been frozen for nearly seventy years," the doctor performing the examination said with a shrug, "he's very healthy. His muscles certainly look better than your beer belly."
"But he might wake up, or he might not." Leaning on his cane, the doctor limped toward the door.
Fury pressed him. "What do you mean, House?"
"The human brain is the most complex part of the body. For us, almost seventy years have passed. For him, it might still be yesterday."
House stopped. The ill-tempered man said, "When he wakes up depends on when he's willing to end that long dream."
Faced with the finest doctor's diagnosis, Fury stared into House's eyes and said, emphasizing every word, "I want him awake."
"You shouldn't have come to a hospital." House wasn't about to indulge him. "You could try a church. Pray there, and maybe this great American hero will wake up."
"Isn't someone always saying that God watches over the United States?"
"Otherwise, you'd better arrange some settings and music that might trigger his memories. That should improve his chances of waking up."
After giving the renowned director of S.H.I.E.L.D. an earful, House walked out of the private clinic, which was equipped with every kind of advanced medical technology.
Fury turned to look at the man sleeping peacefully. He was a perfect man.
A perfect, handsome American face, with blond hair and blue eyes.
A perfect body that could outrun a car.
A perfect character.
A perfect political career.
A perfect test subject...
He was a symbol of the United States, a man who had once led it out of its darkest depths and destroyed the demonic Hydra.
He was the first true super soldier, and a man whose ties to