Marvel Disassembler

The sentiment that youth is wonderful didn't need Dr. Erskine's articulation for Arthur to understand. Yet, Arthur was curious about the connection between the two seemingly disjointed statements the doctor made. 

Observing Dr. Erskine— who was drunk, bleary-eyed, swaying, and visibly dejected— Arthur wondered if the man was experiencing a midlife crisis.

Arthur poured him a glass of water before asking. "What's wrong? Did your new boyfriend dump you?"

Arthur couldn't pinpoint when his interactions with Dr. Erskine had become so irreverent. It wasn't a matter of disrespect; in fact, he deeply respected the knowledgeable and kind-hearted doctor. However, Erskine's penchant for jokes had gradually influenced Arthur's own mannerisms.

"Yeah, it's all Dr. Erskine's fault, not mine," Arthur reassured himself.

Dr. Erskine, however, seemed in no mood for jokes tonight. He looked at Arthur seriously, despite his inebriation. "Arthur, do you think the Super Soldier Project should truly exist?"

Arthur was taken aback. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Erskine replied, shaking his head. "I don't even know what I'm thinking. This question suddenly planted itself in my mind, like a nail. It seems to undermine my entire life's work."

"I've devoted everything to making the Super Soldier serum a reality," He continued, raising a finger. "And now, all the theoretical work is nearly perfect. Only one thing remains: finding the right candidate. But now, I'm doubting myself. Isn't it absurd?"

Arthur didn't find it absurd; he was more perplexed by this uncharacteristic departure from what he remembered of Erskine from the movies. Erskine, what are you up to now? Despite his internal tsukkomi, Arthur empathized with the doctor's dilemma.

What would happen if the Super Soldier serum became a reality? What if Dr. Erskine could witness its long-term consequences? In a world where the serum existed, would everyone become a superhuman? The thought of a world filled with muscle-bound warriors made Arthur shiver. Was Dr. Erskine also worried about this?

Shaking off his speculative thoughts, Arthur realized that his overactive imagination was not helpful now. Just as he was about to speak, Dr. Erskine stood up. "It's okay. I can handle it. Really..."

Dr. Erskine smiled at Arthur, his eyes reflecting a sense of relief Arthur couldn't fully comprehend. "Do what you need to do. If the world is already a hell, there's no need to fear creating a powerful demon to overthrow it. Even if the future is filled with such demons, no one else will suffer."

Looking at Arthur, he added, "If it were you... how wonderful that would be. But fortunately, we have another choice. I hope what I create is not a demon. I don't want this world to fall into ruin."

After saying this, Dr. Erskine patted Arthur on the shoulder and left the room.

Arthur stood there for a while, sensing that Dr. Erskine's mental state wasn't entirely stable. "I've heard of prenatal depression... is the birth of a scientific breakthrough really akin to giving birth? Does it also come with depression?"

Scratching his head, Arthur pondered the doctor's analogy in silence. He understood Dr. Erskine's fear but felt powerless to help. Ultimately, it was a personal struggle that the doctor had to overcome on his own.

As a scientist, Dr. Erskine knew his responsibilities well. However, he was acutely aware of the profound impact his work might have on the world. In the short term, it offered hope, but in the long run... it could very well lead to despair.

Arthur was ruminating over this when another knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It seemed like tonight was unusually busy, with everyone wanting to have a heart-to-heart with him. He opened the door and nearly fled in panic.

Agent Carter!

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Agent Carter observed Arthur's pale face with confusion.

Arthur couldn't very well admit that it was her presence that unnerved him. "I've been feeling a bit hypoglycemic lately," he lied.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Agent Carter glanced at Arthur, who was blocking the doorway. With a sigh, Arthur stepped aside, allowing her to enter.

He had considered contacting Agent Carter about Lindsay's latest intel, but now that she was here, he couldn't help but feel that the word "trouble" was practically written across her pretty face, blinking in ominous red letters. 

At that moment, he wished his golden finger wasn't just a Disassembler but a danger alert system that would let him run at the first sign of trouble.

"Oh, Arthur, your room is a mess. And why does it smell like alcohol? Have you been drinking?" Agent Carter's sharp eyes scrutinized him.

Arthur raised his hands defensively. "It's not what you think. A middle-aged man having a midlife crisis left behind the alcohol smell."

Before he could elaborate, Agent Carter cut him off, looking slightly miffed. "Why didn't you invite me to drink?"

"I'll definitely invite you next time," Arthur muttered, his mouth twitching into a forced smile. "Yeah, it's messy. Uh, make yourself at home."

"Sure, I'll sit," She said before perching on the edge of his bed and fixing her gaze on him.

Arthur and Agent Carter locked eyes in a silent standoff.

Finally, Agent Carter broke the silence with a frustrated sigh. "Why do I always feel like I'm unwelcome here?"

"You're overthinking it!" Arthur quickly shook his head, though internally he was screaming, "You are not just unwelcome, but very, very unwelcome!"

"Interrogation of Lindsay has yielded substantial results," Agent Carter announced, her eyes narrowing at him.

"Already? That was fast," Arthur exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

"We have you to thank for the new interrogation methods you taught Howard," She said, her tone tinged with danger.

Arthur coughed nervously. "So, what's the news?"

"The bad news is that your telegram has already been sent. We couldn't intercept it. Your name is very likely sitting on Schmidt's desk as we speak," She revealed.

Arthur felt a chill run down his spine. He muttered, "Great, just what I needed."

...

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