The first thing that came with awareness was a prevalent humming and an angry voice nearby. There were curious thumping sounds, and loud rattling vents and pipes. Then someone said his name, drawing immediate attention, in a subdued voice that, as heard further, detailed what had been done to him. More sounds filtered in from farther away, some muffled for some reason; a clock nearby ticked, the gaps between the sounds lasting what felt like minutes. The first voice grew in volume and fervor until he cringed at the sound grating on his ears.

Smell, taste and touch came back simultaneously as an overwhelming punch to the brain. The rank scent that would later be identified as death hit his nose, along with the sterile and clinical smell of the science laboratory. He could smell people, the different nuances and flavors of their hormones, not that he knew what these meant. He could taste them on his tongue, and the flavors made him want to gag and scream and run as far away as possible, but Steve Rogers was never one for running.

The worst sensation of them all was touch. He could feel the aches and pains of growth, long forgotten from his childhood and unfamiliar in their own new ways. His skin itched and burned as if he had stayed out in the summer sun far too long, several weeks in a row. He could feel his own heartbeat throbbing through his body. It wasn't just his own body he had to contend with, it was also exterior sensations as well. Whatever he was lying on itched, he could feel every individual rough fiber against his skin and it was agony. Squirming didn't provide any relief. Each seam on his pants, mysteriously too short, irritating his skin even more.

Bracing himself, he opened his eyes, desperately hoping that it would no longer be the cramped darkness from before, only to clench them shut as the electric lighting above him seared his retinas. Trying to ignore the pain, he slowly cracked his eyelids open, letting himself adjust to the light. The air was so distracting. He could just barely see the hints of color beyond the normal spectrum in the air. Dust particles caught momentary interest, as he noticed all the different floating specks moved about in the different drafts.

While it seemed to Steve, who had no idea he had been enhanced in any way, that all of this adjusting took quite a while, in actuality it was only a minute or so. In fact, the conversation he had first registered as he returned to consciousness was still taking place. He began to actually listen to it and was shocked to realize that the angry voice was actually defending him!

Sitting up quietly and taking a deep breath, trying to ignore the medical taste of the room, he startled the two men when he spoke. "I hope this isn't all just a show you're putting on for me," the words came out quickly, almost rushed, "because it isn't amusing at all. Who are you? Actually, I don't care. I want to know exactly what you did to me. What is this 'super soldier' you made me into?"

At this bold introduction to the character of Steven Grant Rogers, Howard Stark's momentarily cowed bravado came rushing back. He smirked cockily at the younger man, sardonic sarcasm dripping off every word. "Of course it's a show! Look at you. You're all big and tough inside, and now you have a body to match; how wonderful!"

Steve just looked at the man standing before him. He was thin and willowy. It was nearly covered by the massive amount of cologne, but the smell of greased back hair and a faint stench of alcohol seeped through the air with his breath as he spoke. The persona that was presented was so transparent, like the skin on his neck where his rushing pulse could be seen clearly.

"Cut it out, Stark." Senator Brandt was quick to step in; he didn't want the enhanced man to lose his temper. "I'm Senator Brandt, and that wise guy is Howard Stark. I'm definitely not putting on a show. I sincerely apologise for what has been done to you. Doctor Erskine was absolutely in the wrong for grabbing you as a last test run on this project." Before he could be interrupted by the younger man he went on. "The Super Soldier program is a top secret military program. He was the head scientist on the project, as he developed the serum and would not write it down or share the formula with anyone. It is designed to enhance whoever it's administered to the peak of human strength and ability. The superior being could be a valuable asset in this war. There was a full program of candidates to be selected. Erskine and Stark, however, wanted to make sure of the likelihood of success before trying it out on one of their men. Had I known, I would have stepped in and prevented this from happening to you."

.

The words peak of human strength and ability struck hard against Steve's rushing mind. He had always been compared to a runt, an example of inferiority, the one mothers who pointed to when trying to convince their children to eat vegetables as they said "if you don't eat your veggies, you'll grow up to look like that man -yes, he's not a boy, he's a man- instead of big and strong like your papa".

But suddenly, all of the new and overwhelming sensations he had been experiencing had a reason! All of his senses were enhanced beyond what any normal person could hear because of the procedure they had done to him. It was somewhat alarming, however, to think about the fact that the enhancements included physical effects, too. He hadn't done much moving yet; he had only been sitting up for a few minutes. The reaction exhibited by Stark seemed to show that there were major changes to his body.

It was time to take a moment and figure out the changes he had gone through. Completely ignoring the two men in front of him for a moment, Steve began to really scrutinize the sensations he could feel. He tried to tune out the current discomforts as he did so, instead focusing on his own dimensions. He looked down at his hands in his lap and for a moment thought he was looking at someone else. His hands were larger, more masculine, and much more tan than he had ever had. Flexing his fingers, he noticed that not only were they larger, they were also longer. When he brushed them together, he was almost overwhelmed at the sheer amount of feedback he was getting. he reached out to touch his knee and overshot it, not expecting his arm to go as far.

Steve stood up and nearly swayed as it took some time to become accustomed to being almost a foot and a half taller than he had been. He took a step, and did sway, as vertigo and nausea swept through him. Fighting down the urge to lose the contents of his stomach, and the desire to really see the full scope of the changes to his body, he finally turned to address the two men.

Senator Brandt had watched in somewhat awe as the man in front of them became increasingly twitchy. Over just a few seconds, there had been quick movements of the hands, a sort of unconscious twitching, and suddenly aborted movements that gave away the thoughts speeding through his mind. Moments later he stood, braced himself, and took a step, where he proceeded to sway almost dangerously. However, another second and he was rapidly turning to the senator, cutting off the additional apologies he had been preparing to say.

"I'm pretty sure I don't forgive you yet." He had to consciously compensate for the faster processing in his head. After hearing the men speak for a while, he had realized that they weren't being condescending to him by slowing their speech. In actuality, he was registering and comprehending their words at a higher rate. "I didn't plan on being a test subject for the military, no matter how much I want to be in the army. You may not have been involved with this, Senator, but there need to be consequences." Turning to Howard, he went on. "And not just for Doctor Erskine, Mr. Stark, you may be famous but that doesn't make you any better than him. Where is he, anyways?"

"He died." It was Stark who replied. "You probably don't remember, but just as you were exiting the machine, a Nazi spy shot him. All this talk of consequences can just stop here. I don't want my name and my company to have anything to do with this mess."

"I thought I should let you all know," one of the scientists had walked up and, after waiting for an appropriate time to interject, broached the subject that Stark had been desperately avoiding, "Mr. Rogers, here, is now the only possible source of ever retrieving the serum formula. It's in his blood, you see, and has likely by now permeated his muscles and bones as well. There is a possibility we could isolate it and recreate it in its pure form to continue the project."

The protest came immediately and simultaneously:

"I don't want that!"
"Absolutely not happening!"

Senator Brandt had more to say. "I already told you this project was over. Mr. Rogers, if you'd still like to help out in the war effort, we might be able to use you. We can't trust that the effects of this will last out on the battlefield, but I have another idea. How do you feel about selling bonds?"