"As long as there are sovereign nations possessing great power,

war is inevitable."

- Albert Einstein

media:

"Fanfare for the Common Man"

by Aaron Copland

The Atlantic Ocean; July 12, 1941

The was no way around it – Steve was nervous. If his U.S. Army shirt hadn't been so baggy, its armpits would have been soaked in sweat. At the moment, the shirt's armpits were somewhere around his waist.

All of the clothes Erskine had given him were far too large, and when he asked about the sizes he had received a cryptic "You'll see," in response. The doctor wasn't doing much to help his nerves, and neither were the high-ranking Army officials stuffed into the zeppelin's central room.

The ship had docked in one of the Manhattan harbors after Steve had been briefed on the procedure and bedecked in his ill-fitting getup. Philips and Erskine had tumbled over each other for a brief explanation of their intentions – with Steve's consent, they were going to transform him into the greatest soldier America and the world had ever seen. Erskine had rambled on about biology and serums while Philips tried to justify his position from a military standpoint, how he respected Steve's free will, but didn't he owe something to the American people?

Frankly, Steve wouldn't care if they were going to throw him from the zeppelin into enemy territory armed with a single hand grenade. This was his opportunity, the light at the end of a tunnel that had seemed so distant for so long. He had signed the necessary forms with enough ferocity to punch his pen through the paper. Philips had insinuated some sort of combat experience, and Steve couldn't ask for anything more.

"It will not be a very comfortable procedure." Erskine had whispered to him on the ride to the harbor, the sleek government car gliding through afternoon traffic. "There will be rapid change as your body responds to the serum. The major injection sites will be –"

"Let's not frighten the boy too much, hm? He'll jump out of the car here and now." Philips added with a wry sort of smile that only made Steve more nervous. As much as his stomach writhed with stress, he couldn't help but look forward to what was to follow. The mystery of it all was simply unbearable, especially with the number of official-looking men milling about. Those who weren't in Army uniforms wore crisp, tailored suits, which made Steve look especially small and under-dressed beside Erskine. They must all be very important, riding in a private zeppelin to witness a science experiment.

"Relax. You're doing fine." The doctor whispered, exchanging a reassuring smile before reaching forward to shake hands with a diplomatic-looking fellow whose hair had most likely been parted with a ruler.

"So this is our super soldier. He's a bit scrawny, isn't he?" Philips and another colonel walked over to shake hands with Steve, the latter looking at Steve with his lip every so slightly curled. "How about those boys down at the fort that Queen Victoria was working on?"

"Some fluke of Erskine's. Good becomes great... I'm an Army man, not a biologist." Both men exchanged chuckles.

"Are you ready to represent your country, son?" Philips' comrade clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Yes, sir." Steve straightened to attention and snapped into a salute, earning another bout of laughter from the colonels. His face flushed scarlet as the two colonels laughed, but he fixed his eyes firmly on theirs and straightened his shoulders. These men were his superiors, after all. He owed them his respect.

He couldn't help but feel slightly discouraged by this turn of events. Erskine had made it sound like he would be a full-fledged Army man, but the colonels obviously thought he was playing soldier.

Steve scanned the crowd for any faces he recognized, but each hard-faced officer and bespectacled scientist seemed to blend together. He was surprised, then, when he looked up to the balcony of the zeppelin's room to see a young man leaning against the banister. He was wearing a suit and didn't seem to be very happy about it – in fact, every part of his getup seemed rumpled, from his hair to his shoes. Steve was considering going to talk to him when Erskine tapped his finger against his champagne flute to draw the attention of the assembled crowd.

Steve had never drunk alcohol in his life, but Erskine had made sure he didn't eat or drink anything before the procedure. The Viennese coffee at the Wanatabe's cafe wasn't enough to keep his stomach from growling violently.

"Attention, everyone. Attention, please. Thank you for coming today for this great leap forward in scientific progress. To those of you who are not on the prep team, please make your way to the viewing platform." A pleasant mumbling followed Erskine's command as the men cleared the floor and found seats above Steve's head. The cool metal beneath his bare feet made Steve shiver as Erskine directed Steve towards the center of the room, up a small step and into the center of a bank of monitors and levers.

"Mr. Stark, are our preparations ready?" Erskine queried as Steve observed his surroundings. Could there possibly be more sharp, dangerous metal instruments in this procedure?

"In a few minutes we'll have taxied out to our location. Hopefully the power won't take the zeppelin down." Stark added almost as an afterthought, and Steve looked outside the windows over the pitch-black sky. The waves crashed far below his vantage point as the zeppelin drifted further out to sea. In no uncertain terms, Philips had explained to Steve that should something to go wrong with Project Rebirth, the effects could be disastrous. Better one zeppelin go down over the ocean than have civilians be harmed in a highly populated city like New York City.

All of these threats made Steve wonder if this was another test. Every eye was on him as Erskine and Stark prepared the various dials and levers, cranking gears and turning knobs. It all looked very complicated.

Taking up a microphone, Stark turned to the assembled crowd with a sweeping gesture. "In Project Rebirth, we intend to create a soldier the likes of which the world has never seen. That begins with physical strength. Doctor Erskine's formula will be injected into major muscle groups, and cellular change will begin immediately. To stimulate growth, the target will be saturated with Vita-Rays."

Steve's palms were clammy with sweat. He wiped them on his baggy slacks as Stark proceeded.

"Whenever you're ready." He gave Erskine a nod, then turned back to make minute adjustments on the monitors.

When Steve spun to follow Erskine's directions, he noticed the elongated metal box at the center of the contraption had been opened. Was he supposed to sit in that thing? A variety of metal plates had been drawn out from the box, with what looked to be needles protruding from one side. Lots of needles.

Steve gulped, but he threw his chin up and stepped up a short platform and settled into the metal box. There was still plenty of space below his feet and above his head, and a choking fear began to rise up his body as Erskine looked down at him. "It's a little large," he managed a short laugh, and the doctor smiled.

Reaching over the metal sides, Erskine found a vein in Steve's arm and injected a syringe of mystery liquid. The pain was sharp but brief, and Steve released a relieved sigh.

"That wasn't so bad."

"That was penicillin." Erskine's face was grim, and Steve felt familiar worry come back to the forefront of his mind.

"Oh. Right."

"Steven, remember this. My serum is ultimate to this experiment's success, but it will do more than make you strong. Your character, your mind... Stay true to yourself, no matter what happens."

Steve's brows furrowed. "Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand –"

"All ready, Howard!" But Erskine had already turned away and given the Stark a signal. With a short hiss of steam the lid of the box began to slide shut.

Claustrophobia clawed at Steve's throat and he reached forward to feel the top of the box – no, the coffin – closing in on him from all sides, leaving him abandoned in the dark with the metal appendages whistling and whirring around him. Never had he been so intimidated by a machine before, but his mind was in the clutches of utter terror as his hands felt the lid of the box slide shut.

A single panel of glass separated him from the outside world, but it was too far above his head for him to see out of. His breath came short and his head spun; he was going to die in here.

Closing his eyes, Steve released a slow breath and clenched his fists. This was a problem larger than himself. He could withstand a little discomfort, he was stronger than that.

He hoped.

A mechanical whirring droned over his head as cold metal spun out from its closed position on his sides, large plates settling on his chest, arms, and stomach. The plates pressed closer and Steve winced as pinpricks of pain bloomed across his body; blood welled against his shirt as the needles were inserted. The pain grew from a gentle throbbing to a fiery intensity, and Steve clenched his teeth until his jaw ached as well. Fire seemed to spread across his body, singing his skin and searing his muscles until he could hardly keep the screams behind his teeth.

"All right in there, Steven?" A faint tapping echoed from beyond the walls of the metal death device, but Steve couldn't wrench a sound from his lips.

"Firing up the Vita-Rays now." The voice of Howard Stark followed Erskine's, and Steve shut his eyes quickly as the lightbulbs around the coffin's walls ignited, brighter than any he had ever seen in his life. The floodlights baked him, only adding to the lava-like agony that was tearing into his body. Every part of him seemed to be in rebellion, spasming under the gut-wrenching pain.

"Twenty percent... Thirty percent..."

The light was blinding, searing through Steve's eyes as it pulsed like a strobe. The metal coffin was becoming stiflingly warm, and each breath he took felt as if he was inhaling warm soup.

"Forty percent... Fifty!"

Every muscle was tensed, his mind floating above a haze of agony. The needles seemed to have turned into kitchen knives inserted into his flesh. Never had he experienced pain so acute, so intense, with every movement triggering an avalanche of fire across his body.

"Sixty... Seventy..."

Steve couldn't contain it anymore – he released a pent-up cry of fear and torturous pain, which echoed deafeningly in his ears. Another sound rumbled back at him, like someone was slapping their palm against the metal contraption. "Steven!" Then fainter, "Shut it off!"

"No!" Steve called back, hoping his voice didn't betray his desperation. "Keep going! I can do this!"

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, he wondered if he really could. As the Vita-Rays charred his skin and the coffin turned into a furnace, he wondered if he would escape from this ridiculous science experiment alive. Pain split his head like an ax and he clenched his teeth to hold back an animal cry, tightening his fists until his knuckles whitened.

"One hundred percent!" Howard's triumphant voice called from a distance, and the Vita-Rays blared so brightly Steve's vision was a wash of white. Every experience culminated in one, intense moment – the agony peaked, the heat skyrocketing until Steve was soaked in sweat, his body in rebellion as his muscles burned fiercely. He wanted nothing more than to leap from the coffin and run back to Brooklyn, hiding behind his machines and the newspapers that declared more and more casualties every day.

That was why he was here. He could do this. After all, he hadn't died yet, had he? The morbid bit of humor allowed the ghost of a smile to cross his face, and at the same time the first Vita-Ray bulb shattered.

Glass stung against Steve's skin and he turned his head away as the bulbs flashed and snapped one by one. An echoing pop sounded near his side as one bulb was forcibly thrown from its outlet, the searing glass burning into his unprotected side. Pressing the palms of his hands against the inside of the coffin, Steve stretched upward to see out of the thick glass, but his vision was obscured in darkness as all of the power to the zeppelin's lights blew with a resounding crash.

A hydraulic hiss hummed behind Steve's head as the sides of the coffin folded away to the blissfully cool air. He took in a breath and his head spun; his entire body was reeling and his vision refused to focus. Mixed with the sputtering lights of the zeppelin and the sea of muttering that filled the great room, Steve was disoriented and he wondered if he would throw up over his new Army digs.

Arms reached out to help him from the metal contraption, and he staggered forward onto his feet, dimly aware of the waves of whispers rushing out from where he stood.

He felt different. Taller. The faces that stared back at him were shocked and awed, and a few of the officers had grins plastered across their faces. As he watched some shook hands, some embraced, and one released a whoop and waved his hat in the air. What were they celebrating?

Almost reluctantly, Steve looked down. He had half-expected Erskine to have turned him into some sort of mutant science experiment, but the result of what had happened in that dark coffin made his jaw drop.

The baggy Army shirt now stretched across a broad chest, his arms bulging with muscles he certainly hadn't possessed before. He stood significantly taller than he had before, significantly stronger than he was before, as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Steve's head jerked upward and he turned to Erskine, who wore a pleasant expression on his face. His eyes shone with pride, and Steve started towards him.

Immediately the throng of people rushed forward, each one jerking their hand outward for Steve to shake, all yammering at one about the war and the Allies and the boys on the front lines. The reaction was overwhelming, and Steve backed away from their frantic gestures and incessant talking, trying to work his way over to where the doctor stood.

"The Krauts'll never know what hit them!"

"A genius, that Erskine is! A marvel!"

"If he stays on our side, we'll have dozens of these boys churned out by nightfall!"

As Steve glanced up to the balcony, he realized the only member of the zeppelin who wasn't tripping over themselves to greet him was the young man he had noticed before. Instead he watched with cool disinterest, arms crossed. The chatter of the cabin was interrupted by Howard raising a glass of champagne aloft, the drink spilling down the side in his haste.

"Here's to the war, my friends! And how much shorter it will last now!"

"Hear, hear!" the roaring cry thundered back. Someone shoved a glass of champagne in Steve's hand and he turned back to find out who it was – at that exact moment, the glass of the zeppelin exploded.

Shards of glass peppered Steve's back and arm as he was thrown away from the windows. A hail of fire filled the air and cries of pain rose above the chatter of gunfire, sparks scattering as the lead clanged against the steel of the zeppelin's interior. Anything above waist-level was mutilated by the barrage – Erskine's machine became unrecognizable in moments, and a massive explosion below the zeppelin's gondola forced Steve to his knees.

Crawling forward on his elbows and knees, Steve struggled over groaning bodies to reach Erskine. The doctor was sprawled backward, eyes wide and bulging with shock. His eyes widened even more when he saw Steve kneeling over him, taking in the results of his handiwork with one sweep.

"Steven... You must understand this!" Erskine's voice was laced with a hair-raising desperation as he clung to Steve's shirt. "My serum is powerful, yes, but it has side effects. You have grown in stature, but also in spirit."

The shouts were growing louder, the clamor as the zeppelin reeled away from whatever what attacking it. "What do you mean?" Steve shouted back. He grabbed Erskine's shoulders, noticing the pain in his dark eyes. The doctor's shirtfront was bathed in blood, with an inch-long shard of glass protruding from his abdomen. "Sir, please, you'll survive this. You can't give up now!"

Erskine's eyes brightened, but his laughter was bitter. "I knew this would happen since the moment I left Germany. It was inevitable. Steven, you remember what I told you before. Good becomes better..." Blood trickled down his chin, and his chest rattled.

"I remember, sir, I remember. Bad becomes worse." Steve gulped back a sob, watching the expressions twist across Erskine's face.

"Steven, promise me this. A dying man's wish. Stay true to yourself. You know why you were chosen? Not because you were particularly strong or brave, but because you were – are – good. Stay... true..."

A bloodied finger tapped Steve's chest, then fell limp as Erskine sagged backward in Steve's arms. Burning tears streamed down Steve's cheeks as he shook the doctor's shoulders, searched his neck for a pulse, anything. Blank eyes stared back listlessly at him. Steve's hands were covered in his blood, he felt as if he was soaked in it.

This was his fault. Erskine could have done so much more, and here he was thinking Steve could somehow turn the war around! It was hopeless, futile. Steve released a shout of rage, but it was lost in the tearing of the wind that whipped through the cabin and the percussive blasts of bullet after bullet tearing the zeppelin to shreds.

A hand grasped Steve's shoulder and yanked him away from the body. Steve's head jerked up with surprise to see the hard-set face of the boy on the balcony, looking down at him with cold determination. "Come on," he tilted his head in the direction of the front of the zeppelin. In three long strides he covered the distance to the doors, with Steve crawling behind him as quickly as he could. When he straightened up and reached the door, he looked back at the fallen body of the doctor, his friend. One hand was still raised ever so slightly, a harsh command given even after death had taken its toll. Go!

Steve chased the boy beyond tables stacked high with maps and books and into the cockpit. All of the glass had been blown out, covering the ground in a fine sheen of white like snow. Steve dove down again as a spray of fire snapped above his head, but the boy didn't even flinch as he reached upward to a small compartment in the upper half of the cabin. A service locker swung open and the boy pulled out a folded-up contraption. As Steve watched slim sheets of metal unfolded again and again, quickly framing the general shape of a glider. Besides the closer lattice of the metal that formed two back-to-back seats, the entire glider appeared incredibly light and equally unstable. Steve glanced down at his newly found height and size – how could a machine so lightweight support him?

"You'll be fine. This could hold the whole of Herr Goebbels' girth," The boy cast him a grin, startlingly at odds with the gravity of the situation. Another explosion rocked the zeppelin and threw Steve against the controls for the ship, which lurched wildly and dove downwards. Leaping forward for the levers, the boy quickly stabilized the airship as best he could in the jerky descent that was bringing the zeppelin closer and closer to the face of the waters.

"We don't have much time. I'll take the front seat with all the tools. Don't mess with anything and we'll be all right." Steve's eyes narrowed at the boy's casual, arrogant tone.

"Sure. Wouldn't want me fiddling with the elevator tab or the tail fairing." Steve ducked his head under the main battery of the glider, keeping his feet placed firmly on the undercarriage as the boy's mouth fell open with shock, then widened into a broad grin.

"The name's Tony, by the way!" He shouted over the wind, swinging himself into his seat in front of Steve. "In case we should both die in a few seconds, which is most likely the case, I figured it would be decent enough for me to admit that much to you. Well, shall we?"

Steve's jaw dropped as the glider inched forward towards the shattered window of the zeppelin. The nose and stunted wings of the contraption scarcely fit through the iron panes, and for a moment they teetered on the brink of falling into oblivion. He's not seriously going to jump, is he?

"Geronimo!" Tony shouted with a whoop, and together they teetered forward and fell into a steep nosedive towards the unforgiving black expanse of the sea.