His first reaction to the question was an emphatic no. He had requested a ride home, and hoped that would be the end of it.
Unfortunately, Senator Brandt used that ride home to the very best of his ability. He tried to change his mind with every conceivable reason. He preached about how good it would be to serve his country, he even attempted to bribe him. Eventually, he posed this question: how would Steve explain the overnight change in physique?
That question forced its way into his mind and began to revolve in circles. Unwittingly, he ended up picturing the scenes: walking into his tiny apartment building, going up the stairs and greeting his neighbor, but instead of her usual smile and greeting, receiving a scowl and a scream from the kind, elderly, Italian woman. Going to work, only to be laughed away with the words "You're not Steve Rogers, stop joshing and scram!" He couldn't even join the Army, especially since they had him on record from just the day before.
Meanwhile the senator had paused in his diatribe, suddenly aware that something he said had struck a chord in the young man's thought process. Unfortunately, this pause is what pulled Steve's thoughts from the depths of his mind.
To Brandt's relief and delight, the enhanced man changed his mind. This did not, however, come without conditions. As they continued to the apartment, now to collect the belongings, they haggled over salary and housing. They also discussed the different aspects of the job, especially what 'selling bonds' would entail.
Little did Steve know that this last minute change in decision could very well have saved his life.
.
The scientists were all incensed. First, that infernal Nazi had killed Erskine, the only source of the serum's formula. Then, that interfering senator had stepped in and stopped them from extrapolating the serum and reverse engineering it's formula from the subject's blood.
They still had a chance, though, the subject had rejected the offer of protection and work from the senator. Plans needed to be made, and the person to turn to was definitely Howard Stark.
Everyone knew that Stark was a shrewd businessman, ruthless and capable of getting many things done. He also had fingers in many pies, and friends in high places. Though his investment in the super soldier serum wasn't very high, his utter disdain of a failed endeavor would keep him somewhat involved with any efforts by the remaining scientists on the project. And they knew it. They didn't even need to attempt to manipulate him, just to give their support in what was ultimately to be blamed as the millionaire's idea.
It was early in the morning, everyone was tired, and bloodshot eyes glared around as they schemed and argued as to how they would retrieve the serum from Rogers. They could only hope that he would slip under Senator Brandt's radar soon so that they could grab him.
As Howard investigated, and phoned a few men of his, he learned that Rogers had changed his mind, and agreed to work under the senator. This served to frustrate every possible plan they had already come up with, as they hinged on there being little to no supervision and involvement from the senator. They had hoped it would have been easy enough to drug him, take him to some facility, funded by Stark, and have as much time as they needed to do tests, and try to replicate the serum.
This setback had brought up the issue of whether or not his metabolism would require more drugs than usual to keep him unconscious. Also, they unfortunately they didn't know how effective the serum really had been, he hadn't allowed them to test his strength and abilities. It may have only bulked up his muscles to a normal, healthy point. It wasn't even clear whether or not he would suffer the negative and possibly deadly side-effects that others had experienced after the injection and procedure. That train of thought led to the next plan, which they chose to enact.
In fact, the plan was somewhat simple. All they needed to do was state their 'concerns' over Rogers' health, and use that as an excuse to do as many tests as they'd like. Since these concerns were over the serum and they had most specialized knowledge about its effects, the examinations couldn't be turned over to anyone else. Any supervisors that the senator put in place could be bribed or blackmailed into silence, especially since Howard's influence covered a vast part of the medical field.
Over the next few days, they amassed the instruments they needed to get as much information possible. They set up a 'clinic' with all of these, and eventually they were ready for testing.
.
Meanwhile, Steve was adjusting to his new body. He wasn't enjoying himself at all. Unaccustomed to his increased height, he kept losing his balance, or running into things. Twice he had hit his head going up the stairs to his apartment. Unused to his increased strength, he kept breaking handles, collapsing door knobs, ripping papers, and ruining all sorts of other things.
This tendency had wracked up a bill that the unfortunate Senator Brandt had to foot. Not only did he have to pay for damaged property, he also had to pay for things like reinforced silverware and new clothes.
In fact, all of the young man's clothes had needed to be replaced. Once his adrenaline and anger had worn off, the senses he had been somewhat ignoring came roaring to the fore. Suddenly the seams and irregularities in his cheap, rough clothes were agony on his sensitive skin. He'd been able to restrain himself until he was alone, in his last minute apartment near the senator's home. Once he was away from the searching, sympathetic eyes, he was frantically scratching at all of the irritations on his skin. He had quickly recognised the futility of his actions; for every itch he scratched, three more would materialize. Frustrated, he tugged his now-tight shirt over his head. The relief he immediately felt had him pulling off the rest of his clothes in a rush to escape the uncomfortable sensation.
The next morning he had informed the senator of his problem. Deep inside he felt a sort of smug satisfaction that Brandt was guilty enough to pay. Quickly he smothered it even further; he didn't want to become a smug arrogant person like Stark.
Over the next few days he made quite an effort to adjust to his new sensitivities. He had to force himself to hold and touch everything as if it were rice paper, or the most delicate blown glass. He learned to tune out the minute sounds around him before they drove him to distraction.
Adapting to the enhanced taste and touch seemed to be the most difficult. Everything he ate exploded into the flavor of each individual ingredient, overwhelming his tastebuds. The problem was that he was ravenous, but the taste of rich foods was so strong that more than one bite was too much. He quickly learned to buy more bland foods and cook with less spices. Touch was similarly solved, he had to have Senator Brandt get him some softer clothes to wear, silkier fabric, just so he would be able to go anywhere. His sheets were the softest they could find. Even then he still wasn't 100% comfortable, but he could endure.
.
A week long period was decided as a sufficient cooling-off period for the senator's anger; the scientists were ready to enact their plan. Picking the most unobtrusive appearing member of their group, they had him phone Senator Brandt.
Said senator was sitting in his office; he had finished convincing his advisors that a promotional tour for advertising bonds was good idea, and was getting the paperwork for the funds filled out. When his assistant told him he had a phonecall, it was almost a relief. Picking up his extension, he greeted the caller:
"This is Senator Brandt, to whom am I speaking?"
Hello, sir. The voice on the other line was timid, soft, and vaguely familiar. You probably won't want to hear from us, but I'm afraid it's important.
He was already getting impatient. "Well, get to it! Who are you and what is so important?"
I'm the intern, from the Super Soldier program.
"I told you all that project was canceled!" Brandt interrupted, "Why are you calling me? Stop wasting my time!"
Before he could hang up, the urgency in his caller's voice stopped him.
Please, senator! It's important! Those who were previously administered the serum, when it was first developed, had horrible side-effects. We just want to make sure that Mr. Rogers won't experience any of these. All we're asking is that you let us do a full physical on him, just in case.
This was something he hadn't thought about, but with the current problems Rogers was having, it was plausible. "I'll have my personal physician take care of it. Thank you for informing me of your concerns."
NO! The protest came, I mean, only the experts on the serum would be able to tell if it's reacting badly. Your doctor, however competent he may be, doesn't know a thing about the serum. We have experts. Let us make sure that poor Mr. Rogers doesn't have anything more unfortunate happen to him.
"Fine," he reluctantly acquiesced, "I'll ask him and then figure out a schedule, my assistant will get back to you. Either way, though, my physician will be supervising." Then he quickly hung up before any more protest could be made.
.
It had taken a while, but Steve got badgered into undergoing the tests that the scientists wanted to put him through. He was particularly reluctant because he already had reasons to mistrust these 'doctors'. However, given the risks that he was assured were really there, he decided that he would submit to the testing.
And so the barrage of tests began. First, they were doing seemingly innocent things, like measuring his height to compare to his previous height. It seemed he'd grown over a foot as a result of the serum. They also tried to find the circumference of his arms, even though they had nothing to base it off of. They measured the size of his head, and the breadth of his chest. Everything was noninvasive, and the doctor who'd been set to supervise ended up just sitting in the corner griping about not being used. It all changed when said doctor decided to go get some coffee.
It seemed that as soon as he was out of the room a new set of tests began. They were in a rush, grabbing all sorts of sharp implements out of the drawers and cupboards. Steve was asked to sit still as they tied a tourniquet around his upper arm and prepped his inner elbow. Then, none too gently, the first hypodermic was stuck into his vein. It was ostensibly for making sure the serum had not taken anything vital out of his blood, but when they continued to take more, one after another, without any regard to his own sensitivity.
Each needle progressively got more irritating. Steve's skin had not gotten any less sensitive. Each instance where a needle pierced his skin came as a jolt to his nervous system. He had to keep reminding himself that this was a precaution, and for his protection. What he didn't know was that all of the withdrawals were for the purpose of extrapolating the serum from his blood and then reverse engineering it. What he did know was that he was getting upset. Ever since the serum, his emotions had gotten stronger. He had found himself crying hysterically, though he would never admit it, on several occasions in the previous week. The jarring sensations and callous attitudes of the doctors were making him feel very insecure. He had no idea where the senator's doctor had gone; he'd never come back from his coffee run.
After what felt like ages, they finally stopped with the blood draws. It didn't get any better from there, because they decided they needed more samples than just that. While he didn't mind the loss of the lock of hair they demanded, he did mind when they said they needed a sample of his bone marrow. Though Steve didn't know much about medicine, he knew enough about bones to know that it wasn't going to be simple, easy, or painless to get some of his.
In the other room, Senator Brandt's doctor was being assured that they were nearly done, and it was fine for him to go home. He didn't need to stay much longer, they said, they were only going to check a couple more things. He was tired, and was eager for his warm, comfortable chair at home. So he allowed himself to be walked to the door, with only the slightest inkling of guilt in his mind.
.
Steve was becoming quite unstable, he'd gone through with the bone marrow withdrawal, even when they told him that "unfortunately they'd forgotten to reorder their supply of anesthetics" and he'd "have to suffer through it." It had been horrible, and he'd struggled, and jostled the equipment so much that the first attempt hadn't even worked! After that, they did a spinal tap. He knew better than to move by then, and just lay there as tears began to drip down his cheeks. All the while, he kept reminding himself that it was to make sure he was okay.
The doctors had begun prepping him for something called a biopsy. Poor Steve had barely recovered from the numerous tests he had already gone through, and he reasoned they would only get worse. So, despite the ball in the pit of his stomach that demanded he shut his mouth, he asked for a description of the procedure. When someone reluctantly told him what it entailed, they had reached the last straw.
"I will NOT tolerate anymore of this!" Steve was tired, in pain, and suffering from blood loss. He had low blood sugar and was feeling quite faint. He stood up quickly, determination being the only thing preventing him from swaying dangerously, and backed away quickly from the men encroaching once again on his personal space. "I'm leaving now," he held up a hand, as if it would hold them back, "and I'm not coming back. If you didn't get everything you needed, then too bad, because I would rather live with whatever consequences come than go through any more of your blasted tests."
He edged his way around them, towards the door. The doctors and scientists knew better than to prevent him, because they'd realised that if they pushed him any further, they might be likely to trigger a violent response. This was something they particularly didn't want because they had no idea how enhanced his strength really was.
Still, each mourned the loss of such wonderful data, as its carrier made its way down the street and forever out of their lab.