"Left fist strength … Right fist strength … 100 meters speed … endurance test …" Stephanie looked at the test report in her hand.
She looked disappointed.
"So it still failed?" She squeezed the paper in her hand.
She crumpled it into a ball and threw it away.
"Miss Malik, the experiment was partially successful. His physique has indeed been strengthened." Jacques looked restrained. He originally thought that it was just a special agent sent by the higher-ups to follow up on the experiment.
It turned out that there was a big background behind it. "As long as the experiment can continue, I believe …"
"No need, that's it." Stephanie interrupted Jacques.
"But, after all, we haven't failed yet."
"You call this not failing yet? He lost his ability to recover quickly.
The Gonzalez Jones Medicine lost its most important raw material. Do you know how big of a loss this is? "
Jacques muttered under Stephanie's sharp gaze. "This … this might just be because he overused his ability.
Maybe he'll recover later. "
"I hope so."
"Then … what should we do now?"
Stephanie looked impatient. "Do I have to teach you this?" She turned and left.
Jacques looked at her back with a slightly annoyed expression.
This woman was smiling before the experiment, but now she looked down on him.
oo00oo
Bruce looked at the information in his hand with a blank expression.
He had already flipped through the thick stack several times.
He was at a loss.
Bruce Jones, born in 1983, was not a natural product.
He was not a product of nature. The sperm provider was a hibernating human with incredibly strong cell activity, and the egg came from a mutant with extremely active and unstable DNA that could change its appearance at will.
This combination was to be able to inherit more of the father's abilities.
He was raised by a researcher, Tina Jones.
His extraordinary physical fitness and training from a young age made him an excellent soldier in the organization. Bruce looked at his resume.
Elementary school, high school, university, all kinds of activities and results were recorded. After that, he joined the FBI after graduation. After that, there were a lot of case reports that he had experienced.
It could be said that it was incomparably detailed, but he always felt that it was unreal because he had no relevant memories in his mind. That's right, it was because he had encountered an explosion when he was pursuing a suspect in an FBI case. He was lucky enough to be rescued, but he had lost his memory.
"Beep! Beep! Beep!" Bruce, who was in a daze, woke up from his daze. His cell phone alarm rang. He glanced at the time displayed on the screen. It was three o'clock in the afternoon. He frowned and reluctantly left the room.
There were some fully-armed security guards in the corridor. When they saw Bruce passing by, they nodded at him. Bruce looked straight ahead and maintained his expressionless face. He walked to the elevator, took out his card, swiped it, pressed the button for his floor, and closed the door.
Don't think that these people are friendly. This is all because of his reputation. Although he had lost his memory, there were some things — according to his doctor — that the body could not forget. In order to test his "instinctive" strength, many of the security guards had their bones broken by him.
However, these security guards were not considered good fighters. He wondered if the elite field personnel were good at fighting. When his memory was blank, only the instinctive fighting style that had formed in the past could allow him to imagine the past out of thin air. To be honest, this kind of feeling was a bit terrible. It was like a rootless duckweed.
While Bruce was in a daze, the elevator door opened, and he arrived at the experimental area. The experimental area was very wide and divided into different small areas. Only those with a certain level of authority could swipe a card to enter. Bruce could only enter this floor.
"You're here." A middle-aged man with glasses, a white coat, and a slightly dangerous hairline was his person in charge, Jacques.
On the chopping board that Bruce usually lay on, well, more accurately, on the comprehensive examination table, there was a person on it. He had a well-proportioned and muscular body. His hands and feet were chained to the table, and a ring-shaped device was worn on this person's head.
Although Bruce could not see the man's expression because of the device, the man's taut muscles, the creaking sound from the metal arm, and the low roar of pain all showed that the man was not having an easy time at all.
"This is?" Bruce looked at it expressionlessly. Recently, he had been wearing this device every day to test the condition of his brain. The low-frequency sound waves emitted by the device made him feel extremely uncomfortable. It was as if there was a small drill running in his brain. Anyway, every time he came down from the device and held the test report that he could not understand at all, he only felt that his brain was still buzzing and blank.
"This is Winter Soldier." Jacques operated next to the screen. "Oh, you may not know. This is the organization's precious weapon. A new mission released him. Now he is undergoing routine debugging and maintenance." Jacques then muttered in a low voice, "Just the cost of Winter Soldier's care alone is higher than my research fund for a year." There was a hint of indignation in his words. He then turned his gaze to Bruce. "If there is a breakthrough in this project …"
This kind of cold words did not seem to be used to describe a person. Bruce did not care about Jacques's gaze. He silently watched another small group of people holding the device to examine the condition of Winter Soldier's mechanical arm. After a full half hour, Winter Soldier came down from the testing platform and stood up straight. "Hail Hydra."
There wasn't the slightest trace of emotion in those dark green eyes as he strode away.
“Hail
"Hydra," Bruce repeated in his mind.
Oh, yes, this was the only thing he remembered. His organization had some incomparably lofty goals, and he would work tirelessly to achieve them.
When he was lying on the testing platform, he suddenly remembered. Right, what was that lofty goal again?
Ah, it seemed that he had forgotten something very important. But he did not have the slightest desire to ask this question. Forget it, he would think about it later. Before his eyes fell into darkness, he suddenly felt a sense of regret for some reason, but this fluctuation of mood quickly disappeared in the pain of his brain.
oo00oo
Bruce looked at the house in front of him. Well, his house. This was a typical middle-class community, and he seemed to be quite popular in the past. On the short walk in front of the house, several people greeted him. An elderly couple, a middle-aged man, and a girl with a big dog. Although they did not speak, they kept looking at him. Presumably, they knew him. He smiled back at them one by one.
Outside the two-story house was a neatly trimmed grass field, and there were some carefully cared for potted plants on the side. Maybe he was a person who loved life?
Bruce walked to the door. Before he took out a small tool to pry open the door, the door had already silently opened by itself. After a slight pause, Bruce touched the weapon on his arm and walked into the house cautiously.
"Welcome back, Sir."
Bruce vigilantly looked in the direction of the voice and found that it was only a speaker. The alarm on the wall was lit up with a normal yellow light.
Is it just an AI system? After confirming that there was no one else in the house, Bruce began to look around his "home."
There was no food in the fridge, the floor was spotless, and there was no smoke in the kitchen. It really did not look like someone lived here. The second floor was even stranger. There was a large open space with several computers that were not turned off. He was not proficient with computers. When he saw that there was nothing running on the interface, he turned them off.
Bruce then went to the bedroom. The bed was covered with a dusting cover, which confirmed his speculation that no one lived here. The wardrobe was empty except for a few sets of formal wear that had been hung up. He casually touched the hanger, and the slight sound of the hanger hitting the closet made him squint his eyes. He knocked on the back of the closet to make sure there was an echo.
A few minutes later, he twisted one end of the hanger and looked at the things in the small partition behind the closet. There was a hint of disappointment on his face.
He thought it would be something important, but it turned out to be a row of neatly placed brand new daggers. As for the style, Bruce touched his arm. There was a similar one there. It had no handle and was sharp enough. It seemed that amnesia did not affect some of his habits.
But he already knew this. Not only did his old way of thinking not change, but he could also quickly learn the knowledge he learned. This was what he had been doing for the past two months. His main mission now was to return to his old life as soon as possible so that no one would notice anything strange.
This was also why he carefully searched his old house. He could understand a person's habits and even personality from the minute details. Unfortunately, although this house was neat and clean, it was obvious that no one had lived in it for a long time. This ruined his plan. If he did not live here, where did he live before he lost his memory?
Bruce was a little puzzled. This was the only property under his name. He closed the small partition of the closet and turned his eyes to the safe in the corner.
After three minutes, he half-squatted and looked at the combination lock on the safe. There was no relevant memory in his mind, so he wisely chose to give up. However, he was in a rare mood of curiosity. He did not know what he had locked in the safe before he lost his memory.
At least he felt that it was definitely not expensive jewelry or watches.
Lying in the comfortable bed at night, Bruce thought about submitting his reinstatement application the next day. Of course, he had good reason to lose contact during this period of time. Then, he would quietly integrate into his old life according to the organization's instructions. Then, he would find a way to transfer from the FBI to S.H.E.L.D., where many of the organization's activities were carried out.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
