Chapter 3
Alexander didn’t remember precisely which of the five Steves survived the slaughter. It never really mattered. He did remember the look of trust and resolve on the kid’s face when he finished killing the others and stumbled over, left arm dislocated and broken ribs bruising purple, and handed him the bloodied knife. He did remember the looks of fascination and disgust and fear and admiration on the faces of the other HYDRA observers. He did remember Zola’s magnanimous smile when he waved over the coffin-like machine used for the serum injection process.
He probably knelt down and said some kind encouraging words to the kid, maybe even held the kid’s hand as the technicians strapped him into the machine. Reminded the kid about “order through pain” when he screamed too much. That sounded like something he’d do, but that didn’t really matter either. What *did* matter, was that the same bloody scrawny kid fell out of the machine when it opened. He remembered the looks of disappointment on everyone’s faces when it looked like the serum didn’t take. He remembered the tightness of his fist as he drew back to punch the kid for failing him. He remembered Zola leaving in his wheelchair without a second glance.
The kid might have said “I’m sorry,” as Alexander signaled for the lab technicians to take the boy away, but that didn’t matter, either. He was already planning his comeback. Alexander refused to be written off as a failed HYDRA investment.
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It turned out that the serum did work, albeit in an odd way. The kid healed from his wounds within a few days. He breathed better. He could see color, sort of. He didn’t get sick when they introduced” pneumonia and smallpox into the room. But he stayed small and scrawny. His back was still bent, his bones, still fragile. Maybe this was salvageable after all.
Alexander decided to pay the kid a visit.
The boy refused to look at him.
"Congratulations, kid." Alexander sat down at the edge of the bed, jovial but careful not to touch him. "You are the only person to get the serum."
The boy didn’t respond, so he tried a different tactic. “I’m sorry I punched you.” And it was mostly true — Alexander did feel bad about it afterward. He didn’t like it when he loses control of his emotions. “I was … upset. Dr. Zola promised that the serum would make you bigger, stronger, not sick anymore.” “I fought so hard to get that serum for you, and you fought so hard to earn it. So when you stayed small and sick…. I’m sorry.” The boy’s shoulders loosened, but Alexander pretended not to see, and instead looked slightly away and down at his hands. “I wanted to punch that bastard for giving you so much pain for nothing, but you know what happens when you take on your superiors…”
Alexander heard some shuffling and looked up to see the boy finally facing him. “Yeah, I do. Th’chair’s not fun.” Alexander reached out, slowly, and cradled the boy’s face. “Does it still hurt? Let me see.” The boy met his gaze, and Alexander noted the fear and confusion in his eyes. “Everything… everything hurts. But ‘sall different. Not in the old way, where one thing would hurt if I do something wrong to it. Now it’s like I’ve been running all day and everything’s on fire, all my muscles, all my bones.” The boy bit his lip, embarrassed at his admission.
"Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry that it’s so painful." The boy looked relieved that he wasn’t going to be punished for admitting pain. "But you’re stronger." The kid nodded, not seeing how that helps with the pain. Alexander grabbed him firmly by the shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "Listen, I know you’re a fighter. That’s why I believe in you. That’s why I fought to get you the serum. Do you know my name? My name’s Alexander — it means ‘defender of men.’ I’m here to defend you." The boy looked away. "Why would you want to defend *me*?"
"They’ve never given you a name, have they?" The boy shook his head. "Can I give you one?" The boy shrugged. "How about Eugene? It means good birth." The boy laughed at the joke — he knew his was not a good birth. "I’m serious. It feels like pain right now, but the serum has given you a new life. And you can *choose* to make it good. You can choose to find strength through the pain."
"Order through pain," the boy muttered. And then, testing the name on his tongue, "Eugene…"
"I just want the best for you, Eugene." Alexander carefully pulled the boy into a hug, and then whispered conspiratorially, because he knows the rooms are bugged. "Trust me, and we can show that Zola who’s boss."
The boy tightened his arms around him and whispered. “I’m sorry for being angry at you.” That apology, Alexander remembered.
