Angels || Steve Rogers¹ ✓

𝙤𝙣𝙚 | 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙮

KALLIE HAD BEEN WORKING WITH ERSKINE FOR ABOUT SIX MONTHS NOW, after he'd confronted her about her secret, and somehow convinced her that she would be the perfect individual to help in his efforts to end the war. It was why she'd come to America, after all. She knew about the war, the slaughter, all the innocent lives lost, and she knew that the U.S. was working to put a stop to it. Of course she wanted to help. She'd met with other doctors, nurses, officers, whoever she needed to, but it was getting old. She didn't see the point to any of it if Erskine didn't hurry up and choose his candidate. 

Finally, when he'd dragged her to one of Stark's conventions, of all things, when she was at her wit's very end, he came to her with a name. 

"Steven Rogers."

She frowned, flipping through the pages. "You want someone who has repeatedly and illegally falsified papers to be part of this project?" She received an odd look or two, but she was used to it by now. It often happened when she spoke, her definitive British accent standing out here. Then again, Erskine's accent attracted more attention than hers did. 

"But look at his conditions." The doctor urged. 

She studied the details more carefully, one brow raising as she realised what he was getting at. "You think it'll cure him of all this? Permanently?"

"If it works right."

"And what about the fraudulence?"

"That's why we're going to meet with him, get an idea of who he is. Right now."

"Right now?"

He nodded. "Right now."

Kallie sighed. "Alright. Let's go see Steven Rogers."

He was pulling his shoes back on when they stepped past the curtain. The first thing Kallie noticed was how small he was. She was about five-foot-seven, not tall by any means, nor too short, but even she stood over this young man. Still, she knew Erskine was right. It was about his character more than anything else. 

"So," the doctor began. "You want to go overseas to kill some Nazis."

"Excuse me?" His voice, too, surprised her, sounding like it belonged to a much bigger person. 

"Dr. Abraham Erskine." He introduced. "I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve. This," He gestured to Kallie. "Is my apprentice, Ms Kallie Johnson." She smiled, offering only a nod.

"Steve Rogers." He replied, shaking the offered hand. Clearly he picked up on the accent. "Where are you from?"

"Queens, 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway." Erskine adjusted his glasses. "Before that, Germany. This troubles you?"

"No." He seemed genuine.

"Where are you from, Mr Rogers? Hm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities-"

"That might not be the right file-" Steven tried.

"No, it's not the exams I'm interested in." The doctor assured him. "It's the five tries. But you didn't answer my question. Do you want to kill Nazis?"

He looked around for a moment, as if uncertain. In fact, Kallie knew he was. "Is this a test?"

"Yes." She supplied calmly.

He shook his head. "I don't wanna kill anyone. I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from."

Erskine nodded. "Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is a little guy, huh? I can offer you a chance. Only a chance." He opened the curtain, and Kallie followed him out. 

"I'll take it." Rogers insisted, hurrying after them. 

"Good. So where is the little guy from? Actually?"

"Brooklyn."

One stamp on one sheet and Erskine handed over the folder. "Congratulations, soldier."

Kallie offered him a smile. "Congratulations."

He seemed to note her accent too. "Are you from England?"

"Well, I'm not from around here."

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one day later...

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KALLIE DIDN'T TAKE LONG TO PACK UP HER APARTMENT. She lived alone and didn't need much, and so by noon she had already arrived to meet Dr Erskine at the train station. On board, she took more interest in her books than the scenery, not that the doctor would disapprove. She wasn't really sure how much time passed while she absorbed all she could about blood pressure and strains on the human body,  butterfly cocoons and much more. 

"You're worrying."  the statement pulled her mind back to the present from wherever it had wandered, and she realised she'd been staring at one page for about five minutes now, eyes fixated on the word, transformation. "You should stop. It's not good for you."

She sighed. "We only have one shot at this, doctor. What if it fails? We could kill him, or do something much worse."

He nodded at her book, indicating she should close it, and she complied. "What have I taught you about the serum?"

"It's carbon based. It will cause immediate reaction in the cells, meaning the healthiest ones will reproduce at the fastest rate we've ever seen and the worst of them will be effectively reduced or killed off. The cells, from that point in time, will correct any flaws and heal and regenerate at a faster rate than any other human and supposedly work to achieve perfection. To put it simply, the serum will create a human weapon, stronger and faster and more intelligent than any machine of war."

"What does that sound like to you?"

She pursed her lips, refraining from rolling her eyes at the question. "Science?"

"And what is our number one rule when it comes to science?"

"Nothing is perfect, but we achieve our greatest performances when we put our trust in our knowledge and ourselves."

He smiled, clearly satisfied. "Very good."

She leaned back in her seat, eyes fluttering shut to block out the cascade of worries. I hope you're right.