Tennessee. A secret underground research institute, sealed away from the public eye.
In a narrow, dimly lit dormitory room lined with steel walls, a young man sat hunched over a battered workstation. The glow from an old computer monitor reflected off his focused eyes. His fingers danced across the keyboard, alternating between coding lines of data and scribbling complex biochemical equations onto a well-worn notepad.
On the chest of his lab coat, a metallic silver badge caught the flickering light. It bore the name: Nathan Cross.
Beneath it, another line of text: Super Soldier Serum Team 71 — Researcher 71-08.
Nathan Cross wasn't just anyone. He was a scientist specializing in one of the most elusive goals in modern bioengineering—the recreation of the Super Soldier Serum, the very formula that once transformed Steve Rogers into Captain America.
But this research wasn't funded by any known government or reputable institution.
Nathan worked for HYDRA.
Or rather, the body he now occupied did.
Because the real Nathan Cross was dead.
The soul currently controlling his body had only arrived hours earlier—a time traveler from modern-day Earth, thrust into this deadly reality without warning.
When he first awakened in this unfamiliar body, it was already cold and lifeless. He hadn't taken over someone alive—he had inherited a corpse.
Nathan's predecessor had been executed.
The reasons were grim, but straightforward.
HYDRA, reeling from the catastrophic losses it suffered after being exposed during the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, was bleeding manpower and funding. The organization's failures had mounted, and the once-ambitious Super Soldier Serum project was deemed a waste of resources.
Their solution? Kill the entire research team. Clean up the data. Shut it all down.
A few hours ago, the base director and armed guards had entered this very room, snuffed out the original Nathan like a candle, and left the body to be disposed of.
But now, someone else wore that face.
If HYDRA discovered he had been "resurrected," Nathan knew he wouldn't get a second chance.
He had no powers. No allies. No way out.
Only one thing could save him—the very serum he had been hired to develop.
Just moments after awakening in this body, Nathan had received something extraordinary—a gift from his former life's mother. A strange system, or perhaps fate itself, had reached across realities to deliver it.
> [You have received a gift from your mother in your previous life on Earth.]
[You have gained: Ultimate Scientific Research Ability & Unlimited Evolutionary Potential.]
[Ultimate Scientific Research Ability]: Grants the bearer unparalleled understanding of science, enabling rapid mastery of any subject.
[Unlimited Evolutionary Potential]: The host body can absorb and integrate all powers and adaptations, limited only by knowledge and available technology.
With this, Nathan had become something more.
His mind burned with new clarity—his comprehension of biochemistry, neuroscience, and mutagenic cell processes expanded exponentially. His thoughts fired off like a supercomputer, allowing him to learn, simulate, and innovate at speeds impossible for ordinary humans.
And right now, that brain was working overtime.
With fingers trembling from exhaustion, he poured through HYDRA's archives, decrypting files, correcting flawed theories, and building new ones from scratch. On a separate notepad, he scribbled cell mutation stabilization thresholds, neuron signal synchronization algorithms, and metabolic enhancement factors.
He wasn't just studying the Super Soldier Serum—he was reinventing it.
Every neuron in his mind pulsed with data. His body, though supercharged mentally, remained mortal. His hands trembled. His stomach growled loudly, but he ignored it.
Only when the hunger pains became unbearable did he stop to unwrap a few chocolate bars—his only fuel. He devoured them quickly and returned to work without hesitation.
He was in a race against death.
Somewhere in the facility, a cleanup team would be preparing to dispose of the bodies. It wouldn't take long before they made their rounds.
If they opened his door and found him alive?
He'd be shot on the spot.
Escape wasn't an option. The base was a fortress—guarded exits, surveillance cameras, and kill orders on any unauthorized movement.
His only path forward? Finish the serum. Inject it. Survive.
Equations filled dozens of sheets. Each one brought him closer to a breakthrough. Each second mattered.
In the command center upstairs, the base director—a tired man whose eyes betrayed anxiety—was making a secure call. The window blinds behind him were shut tight.
On the other end of the line, a chillingly familiar voice spoke.
"Baron Strucker," the director said, his voice strained with nervous energy. "All members of Team 71 have been neutralized, per your orders."
Strucker's voice was cold and precise. "Good. Back up all relevant research. Then wipe everything. Burn it all. Shut down the site permanently."
The director nodded, though Strucker couldn't see it.
"There will be no mistakes, my Lord," he promised.
But Strucker wasn't done. His voice dropped in tone. "Let me be clear. This was already a waste of resources. If any mistakes are made cleaning it up, I'll ensure you follow the same fate as your researchers."
The line went dead.
Sweat dripped from the director's forehead as he turned and barked into a nearby communicator.
"Deploy the clean-up team immediately! Sweep all research areas. Burn the bodies. Double-check for survivors. If anyone is alive—terminate them."
"Understood."
Back in the dormitory, Nathan felt his head spinning.
His vision blurred. His breath was shallow.
His body was giving out.
But then, it happened.
A click of clarity.
The final equation—the missing key to stabilize the serum's degenerative side effects—came to him like lightning.
He grabbed a fresh piece of paper and began writing. Line after line, formula after formula.
He cross-checked it, simulated it mentally, validated the enzyme reactions, cross-linked the hormonal triggers…
And then he paused, staring at what he had created.
The formula was complete.
Nathan whispered, "It's done... it's finally done."
His lips curled into a triumphant smile as he held the paper before him.
For the first time since Captain America, the perfected Super Soldier Serum formula existed again.
He exhaled, trembling. He had no time to rest.
He needed to synthesize it. Inject it. Survive the transformation. All before the kill squad arrived.
From here on out, the countdown to death truly began.