The Magnificent Bastards Protocol

[September 1940 - Sterling Enterprises Private Laboratory, Sub-Level 5]

Alexander Sterling stood buck naked in his private enhancement chamber at 3:33 AM, cataloguing his body's inadequacies with the clinical detachment of a man about to perform surgery on himself. Five foot eleven of adequately arranged atoms. Muscle definition that suggested familiarity with exercise but with room for improvement. A face that investment bankers found trustworthy and widows found forgettable.

"You know," Howard observed from behind the control panel, nursing what was definitely not his first drink of the evening, "most people don't invite friends to watch them get naked and inject themselves with super-soldier juice."

"Most people aren't about to become gods among men, Howard."

"Fair point." Howard took another swig from his flask. "Though technically you already act like one, so this is just making the outside match the personality."

The enhancement chamber made Steve's setup look like a high school science project. Vibranium-laced projectors arranged in fractal patterns. Bio-monitors that could track cellular changes in real-time. Alexander had spent two months and roughly thirty million dollars building this thing, all hidden in budgets that would make government accountants weep.

"Injection sites prepped?" Alexander asked, running his fingers over the marked points on his arms, legs, torso. Seventeen injection sites total. Because if you're going to enhance yourself, why half-ass it?

"Ready when you are, you magnificent lunatic." Howard's hands moved across controls with the confidence of a drunk pianist who somehow never missed a note. "Though I still say you should have Erskine here."

"Erskine's recovering from a bullet wound and a crisis of conscience. Besides, he'd ask questions about the formula modifications."

"Right. Your mysterious improvements." Howard didn't press - he'd learned when not to ask questions. "Initiating sequence in three... two..."

The auto-injectors deployed like chrome acupuncture, finding their marks with mechanical precision. Alexander took a breath, then another, then thought fuck it and hit the activation switch before he could talk himself out of it.

The serum hit like liquid mathematics trying to solve for X where X was godhood.

Every cell became a battlefield between what was and what could be. His comfortable academic physique was getting evicted by something altogether more ambitious. The super soldier serum didn't just improve - it perfected, finding the optimal configuration for every system and implementing it with prejudice.

"Vita-Rays charging," Howard announced, though Alexander barely heard him over the sound of his skeleton apparently deciding to renovate itself. "Twenty percent... forty..."

Note to self: Next time, maybe add some painkillers to the formula. Christ on a cracker, this hurts like—

His neural pathways rewired themselves with the efficiency of a supercomputer installing updates. Not just faster synapses - entirely new connections, patterns of thought that shouldn't be possible with organic hardware. His perfect memory sharpened into something beyond eidetic, every moment of two lifetimes becoming instantly accessible data.

"Sixty... eighty..."

Height increased as bones lengthened and reinforced. Muscle fiber tore and rebuilt in configurations that made Olympic athletes look like rough drafts. His cardiovascular system redesigned itself around efficiency metrics that violated several laws of biology.

"One hundred percent!"

The chamber powered down with a hiss that sounded like God's own sigh of relief. Alexander stepped out on legs that felt simultaneously brand new and like they'd always been this long. The world looked different. Sharper. He could hear Howard's accelerated heartbeat, smell the specific brand of scotch on his breath, see dust motes dancing in air currents he could now calculate the trajectories of without trying.

"Jesus tap-dancing Christ," Howard breathed, watching readouts that looked like someone had asked a calculator to divide by zero. "Your brain activity just exceeded anything I've seen outside of seizures. You're either achieving enlightenment or having the world's most expensive stroke."

"Neither," Alexander managed, his voice somehow richer, deeper, more resonant. "Just... seeing everything. Understanding everything. God, is this what Steve feels like all the time? No wonder he punches his way through problems."

Alexander looked at his reflection in the polished steel of the chamber. Six foot three of absolutely ridiculous human perfection stared back. Shoulders like he'd been carved by Michelangelo on his best day. Muscle definition that belonged in anatomy textbooks. His face had sharpened into something that made Hollywood leading men look like rough drafts.

"Well," Alexander said, "this is going to be a problem."

"A problem? You look like Zeus decided to have a mid-life crisis and get really into CrossFit!"

"Exactly." Alexander grabbed a robe, the fabric feeling almost alive against his enhanced nerve endings. "I just spent weeks telling everyone I don't have Erskine's complete formula. Now I show up looking like Captain America 2.0 instead?"

His enhanced brain was already running scenarios. Every enhanced sense feeding data into a processing system that made his previous genius look like arithmetic. He could feel his neurons firing in patterns that shouldn't be possible, making connections between disparate pieces of information like a detective on the universe's best cocaine.

Howard fumbled for his flask and took a swig. "You know what the really insane part is?"

"What?"

"This isn't even the craziest thing we've done this year." Howard laughed, slightly hysterical. "Remember when you had me build a containment system for that weird glowing cube? Still don't know what that was about."

"You'll find out eventually." Alexander tested his grip strength on a reinforced bar, bending it into a pretzel without effort. "Assuming we all live that long."

Howard poured himself another drink, then thought better of it and handed it to Alexander. "Here. You look like you need this more than me. And that's saying something."

Alexander downed it in one go, his enhanced metabolism already processing the alcohol before it could do anything useful. "Great. Can't even get drunk anymore. This just keeps getting better."

"So what's the plan? You can't exactly hide... that." Howard gestured vaguely at Alexander's entire existence.

"We'll figure something out." Alexander's mind was already adapting, integrating the enhancement with his existing knowledge. Plans within plans within plans, all calculating simultaneously. "Get Vinnie on the encrypted line. Tell him vacation's over."

"The bootlegger? Why?"

"Because I need people I trust, and Vinnie's boys have proven they can keep their mouths shut." 

"You're not thinking..."

"I'm thinking a lot of things. About seventeen different things simultaneously, actually, which is new and weird." Alexander paused. "Howard, what I'm about to do... it's going to change everything. You sure you want to be part of it?"

Howard laughed, the sound bouncing off the chamber walls. "Alex, I helped you become a god. Bit late to develop a conscience now."

Fair point.

The phone rang twice before a groggy voice answered. "Boss? It's four in the fucking morning."

"Vinnie! How's Miami?"

"Warm. Wet. Full of women who appreciate a man with steady employment and questionable morals." Vinnie's voice sharpened, recognizing something in Alexander's tone. "Why do I feel like my vacation just ended?"

"Because you're perceptive. I need you and your best men back in New York within the week."

"This about the Nazi thing again?"

"Somewhat related," Alexander was already calculating exactly how to phrase this. "Remember how Captain America happened?"

"Yeah, skinny kid becomes beef supreme. What about... oh. Oh shit. You didn't."

"I did. And now I'm offering the same to you and your boys. Strictly voluntary. But Vinnie? The world's about to get a lot weirder than Nazis. I need people I trust who can keep up."

Long pause. Alexander could practically hear Vinnie's brain working through the implications. Finally: "How's it feel? The upgrade?"

Alexander looked at his reflection again. Even standing still, he radiated a presence that would make drill sergeants stammer and politicians tell the truth. "Like being born again, except this time God remembered to read the instruction manual."

"Fuck it. I'm in. Give me five days to gather the boys and sober them up."

"Four days. And Vinnie? Only the ones you'd trust with your life. This isn't the kind of secret that stays secret if we're sloppy."

"Got it. Hey boss? Your voice sounds different. Deeper. Like you gargled with testosterone and gravel."

"Side effect. You'll understand when you get here."

Alexander hung up and turned to Howard, who was staring at him with the expression of someone watching a slow-motion car crash made of ambition and super-science.

"You're really doing this? Building your own private army of super soldiers?"

"I prefer 'enhanced security detail.' Sounds less megalomaniacal." 

"This is going to end badly," Howard predicted, taking another drink. "I can feel it in my genius bones."

"Everything ends badly. The question is how much good we can do before the bad ending arrives." Alexander clapped Howard on the shoulder, carefully controlling his strength. "Thanks for this. For keeping it between us."

"Yeah, well. You're the closest thing I have to family that isn't trying to steal my company or marry me for my money." Howard gathered his equipment, movements slightly unsteady. "Just... try not to conquer the world or anything."

[Four Days Later - Sterling Enterprises, Secure Conference Room]

Alexander's secure office looked like a gathering of Brooklyn's most morally flexible alumni. Vinnie Russo still carried his Miami tan like a souvenir. Oleg's expression grew increasingly interested while Torrio's became more calculating. The others were maintaining poker faces with varying degrees of success.

"So we become like you?" Oleg asked after Alexander finished explaining. "Strong like bear, fast like... faster bear?"

"Your metaphors need work," Alexander said. "But essentially, yes."

Vinnie looked at Alexander. "This gonna hurt?"

"Like giving birth to yourself through your entire skeleton."

"Fantastic. Let's do it."

"And the catch?" Torrio asked. "There's always a catch."

"The catch is you become valuable enough that my enemies become your enemies. The catch is you'll outlive normal humans by decades. The catch is that once you see what's possible, normal becomes unbearable."

"Eh." Oleg shrugged. "Normal is overrated. When we start?"

"You're in? Just like that?"

"Boss, I follow you into crazy situations already. At least now I be bulletproof for them."

"Torrio, you'll have to wait a while. Someone needs to run Sterling Enterprises since I can't exactly show my face in public anymore. Not looking like this."

Torrio nodded slowly. "Makes sense."

One by one, Alexander enhanced the gathered men. Each transformation was easier than the last, his enhanced intellect fine-tuning the process in real-time. By dawn, he had a team of super-soldiers who looked like they'd stepped out of a fitness magazine published on Mount Olympus.

"Holy shit," Vinnie kept repeating, examining his new musculature. "Holy shit holy shit holy shit."

"Eloquent as always," Alexander said. "Now, everyone needs to understand something. This changes everything and nothing. We're still the same people, just... optimized. Vinnie, you're taking your boys to Portugal. There's something buried in Chaves that we need before anyone else finds it."

"What kind of something?"

"The kind that makes our enhancement look like baby aspirin compared to morphine." Alexander pulled up maps on his wall display. "Local legends talk about 'stars from heaven' and 'blue angels bearing gifts.' Classic cargo cult formation around advanced technology."

"So... aliens?"

"Does it matter? Could be aliens, could be Atlanteans, could be time travelers who really liked Portuguese wine. Point is, there's something there, and both the Nazis and the Council of Nine are sniffing around for it."

Vinnie studied the maps with his enhanced cognition already making connections. "These geological surveys... there's a pattern. They're not random."

"No, they're not." Alexander turned to the group. "Here's the thing, gentlemen. We're playing a game where most people don't even know there's a board. The Nazis think they're looking for mystical artifacts. The Allies think we're in a conventional war. The Council of Nine thinks they're manipulating global politics."

"And we know better?" Torrio asked.

"We know there's more. So much more it makes their ambitions look like kids fighting over toys while the adults are planning dinner." Alexander smiled, and it wasn't entirely nice. "We're going to dig up every advantage, secure every asset, and be ready for when the real players show up."

"Real players?"

"Let's just say in a few decades, the biggest threat to Earth won't be wearing a swastika." Alexander headed for the door. "Vinnie, you leave tonight. I'll be joining you with Oleg soon - can't risk being seen in New York anymore. Torrio, you're handling all operations while I'm gone. Questions?"

"Yeah," Torrio said. "What about your parents?"

Alexander grimaced. "Tell them I'm in South America. Urgent business. Contracted something tropical. Very contagious."

"You think your mother's going to buy that?"

"No, but it'll buy me time to figure out how to explain... this." Alexander gestured at his transformed physique. "Maybe by the time I get back, I'll have thought of something believable."

"Just say you work out harder," Oleg suggested.

"Right. 'Hi Mom, I gained four inches and a hundred pounds of muscle because I discovered pilates.' That'll go over great."

The room erupted in laughter. Even enhanced, they were still the same crew of magnificent bastards he'd assembled over the years. Just now they could bench press cars while being magnificent bastards.

As they filed out, Alexander caught his reflection again. The serum had turned him into something beyond human, but the real enhancement was in his mind. Every memory crystalline clear, every pattern obvious, every connection sparking with possibility.

He thought about Steve Rogers, probably getting ready for his first propaganda tour. About Erskine, recovering from his wound and facing pressure to restart Project Rebirth. About all the players moving their pieces while he moved the board itself.

"Sir?" His secretary's voice through the intercom. "Agent Carter is here. She says it's urgent."

Of course she was. Because the universe had a sense of dramatic timing, and that timing was apparently set to "maximum inconvenience."

"Tell her I'm unavailable."

"I tried, sir. She said she'll wait. She brought tea."

British. Fucking. Determination.

Then let her wait. Agent Carter's supervisory authority ended when Project Rebirth relocated. And Margaret? Clear my calendar indefinitely. All meetings go through Mr. Torrio."

Time to disappear. Portugal awaited, and with it, another piece of the cosmic puzzle that would determine humanity's future.