[Comprehensive British and American] Space Patrolman Hydra

Recommended BGM: "Don't Wake Me Up", by: JoshLeake

Steve Rogers fell into the gloom.

It hurts.

He couldn't help thinking.

The frail fingers worked slowly, leaving clear scratches in the soil.

... Fight with them.

He curled up to protect his fragile stomach.

Just... Fight.

He calmly held his breath in the midst of ridicule and insult, and suddenly grabbed a leg that kicked towards him, yanked hard to block the other punches and feet that attacked him, and quickly rolled away from the kick.

"...Fuck off!"

The person who was used as a meat shield by Steve Rogers couldn't help cursing, angrily threw away the hand extended by his companion, and looked violently at the person who had just let him suffer.

"Guys... don't get so excited."

Steve Rogers pulled up his clean neckline and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and made a "hiss" inconspicuously when he touched the bruised wound.

It hurts a bit.

He raised his eyes and looked at the old woman who was hiding in the alley and looking in anxiously, but he still didn't take the opportunity to run away, but stood straight on the spot, showing a pale face to the group of people who gradually surrounded him.

"We don't want to waste time here, do we? Let's discuss and leave the lady's bag?"

"Leave?"

The men who had been wandering the streets all year round looked at each other and laughed together as if they had heard some joke.One of them hooked his fingers, pointed to his shoes, and smiled maliciously at the thin young man.

"Okay, if you lick the mud off my shoes, I'll give you the bag."

They had no intention of returning it at all, and the so-called request was just a mockery of his overreaching.

Steve Rogers understood this masterfully.

"...You guys just want to be bastards no matter what, don't you?"

So he took a deep breath, clenched his hands into fists, and slowly raised them in front of him.

"Then let your fists speak."

"--just you?"

The jeers sounded again.

"You just don't admit defeat, right?"

"of course."

The thin young man pursed his lips and raised his fist.

"I can do this all day!"

He rushed out.

"boom!"

Of course, there is no suspense to be defeated.

"How can you still be a hero with this little ability? Go home and eat your mother's milk!"

The man who kicked him to the ground laughed loudly.

"I'll return this sentence to you as it is. You only have this little ability to bully people?"

He pressed his trembling legs and stood up slowly.

"Come again!"

"boom!"

He was crushed again.

He leaned on the wall and braced himself to stand up.

"...come again!"

"boom!"

He was beaten again and again.

"...Again...Again!"

In the past, the gangster who only dared to bully the weak and unintentionally killed people seemed to have red eyes, and his strength gradually lost control. Every punch and every kick desperately took away his remaining life.

Steve Rogers groped for the steel rod he had hidden in a crack in the wall as he expertly endured the pain.

He lives in chaos, he has a heart that is too full and a body that is too slack, he knows how to raise his fist to make people laugh, he is only one person, so he is in every possible way. The places he passed hid things he might find: bricks, steel rods, sirens...

Because he wants to live.

His hand finally groped for the location where the thing was hidden, and his fingers went in——

--No?

empty?Why would it be empty?

He obviously came to check yesterday——

There is a breeze blowing in the left ear.

Steve Rogers didn't have time to think about it, and immediately rolled away from the wall, and the place he was leaning on was immediately punched with a shallow groove.He looked up in shock, and found that the fingers of the person who did it had been twisted abnormally, but the person seemed to be painless, lowered his empty eyes, clenched his fists and continued to walk towards him.

They also wanted to kill him.

Steve Rogers looked around.

Not far away is the sunny street.Steve Rogers still remembers how enthusiastic and happy the people on the street were. The war may have torn away many false masks, but it also polished more real light.But now those rays of light seem to be separated in another world by some vague black veil. There are many people passing by, but no one takes a look inside.

At the entrance of the alley stood the old woman he had helped.Steve Rogers still remembers that she had a pair of dim and cloudy but warm eyes. She used those eyes to make money day and night to support her family and take care of her sick lover. With compassion and kindness.But now those eyes are like inorganic glass beads, through which something watches the madness in the alley, waiting for his death.

Fifteen minutes passed long ago, and the road patrol police still disappeared.

The time for the church to distribute bread has expired, and the homeless people living in the alleys have not returned.

In this dirty alley where justice and humanity cannot shine, he struggled alone.

Steve Rogers just knew it, here we go again.

He exhaled lightly, and the air flow brushed against the swollen and ruptured wound, bringing bursts of sober pain.He licked his cracked lips, stepped back cautiously and slowly, watched warily the few people who surrounded him and the knives that appeared in their hands at some point, and at the same time scanned the surrounding area with his peripheral vision, looking for everything that Pai Useful stuff.

"Gulu."

He kicked something that sounded like a glass jar.

Steve Rogers glanced away in doubt, and saw a delicate and beautiful glass jar lying at his feet, with a label on it for fear that others would not see it, with big characters written in highlighter:

"Paprika".

Steve Rogers: ...

He pursed his lips very slightly, and reached out to pick up the can of chili powder.

One minute later, a horrific scream erupted in the alley, tearing the black veil that separated the world.And Steve Rogers went out into the sun and returned the lost bag to the old woman.The old woman touched his wound lightly with concern, and gave him a roll of gauze.He took it with a smile, clutching the empty glass jar in his other hand.

He inserted a few well-opened roses into the glass jar and placed it on the table by the window sill at home.

He likes to sit by the window and read a book.The book borrowed from the New York City Library has a smell of wooden lacquer. Under the sunshine and roses, the thin young man reads intently.

Until the sunlight was so weak that he could no longer read clearly, he sat in front of the window covered with a blanket, holding a teacup in his hand, leaning against the back of the chair, and staring at the faint moon in the night sky.

The temperature has been too low recently, and when he came back in the afternoon, he was splashed with cold water again. He wrapped the worn blanket a little tighter, drank the oatmeal in the cup, and waited for the familiar doctor to finish his visit and bring him some medicine back .

In the evening, he developed a high fever.

He is too weak.Heart disease, asthma, high blood pressure, color blindness, scarlet fever, rhinitis, rheumatic fever, anxiety... Diseases are gnawing at his life all the time, trying to drag this young man who is struggling on the edge of life and death into death country.He used to be very careful, and a large part of the meager salary he earned from his work was given to the doctor to help him mend his dilapidated life.

But the doctor who was supposed to take care of him today never showed up.

Steve Rogers wasn't all that surprised because it wasn't the first time.No matter how many doctors are changed, no matter whether the time is confirmed before, no matter how many promises the doctor makes, when he is really fighting death, there will never be anyone around him.

He clearly knew that something was wrong with his life.

The young man struggled to get up, the blanket slipped off, and the tea cup hit the ground with him, making a dull sound.He propped up his hot body with his hands and crawled towards the corner, lifted a cracked wooden board, and pulled out a box from the ground.

It contained some off-the-shelf medicines he begged from the hospital.

He was alone, so he packed his home with everything he could possibly need, including medicine.

Because he has to live.

Even if he is extremely lonely, no one in the living cares about him, covets him at the moment of death, no one expects his future as thin as a monkey, his life is decaying at a speed visible to the naked eye...

He also had to live.

Burnt indistinctly, Steve Rogers struggled to decipher the dangling small print by moonlight: iodophor, omeprazole, belapril, terbutaline aerosol, calcium channel blocker , penicillin, acetaminophen, chlorpheniramine... no, no, he obviously has a lot of medicines that can be used to cool down...

what is this?

He saw a white cardboard box.

There is no word on the carton, and there are several capsules when it is opened. There is no description of the medicine, and there is no instruction manual.He opened the box in confusion, and found a large line of words on the inner wall of the box.

'Two tablets at a time'.Written in highlighter.

He swallowed two tablets without hesitation.

The moonlight was blocked by some kind of existence, and he was wrapped in darkness, but he felt extremely safe.

The next day, Steve Rogers was awakened by the sun shining on his face.

He is not dead.

He is still alive.

That's great.

He tidied up yesterday's mess, calmly accepted the belated doctor's apology, and continued to do the same things as usual: clean the room, try to exercise, go out to work, write letters for others, borrow books from the library, and then go back home. Hand in your application form at the conscription office before you go home.

His application form will never pass—that’s for sure, anyone who sees him like this will suspect that he can’t even hold a gun, not to mention the shocking list of failures on the medical examination form—so he One day after receiving rejections again and again, I made a fake.

Appropriate, innocuous, will not harm others, a little flexibility is also possible.

Putting on his hard-won uniform, Steve Rogers thought to himself that he had no right to enjoy the lives of others dying on the battlefield.

...Although he really couldn't hold the gun.

He couldn’t get up with four push-ups, climbed forever, ran always at the end, couldn’t overcome obstacles, bullied by his teammates, contempted by his superiors, it’s not like he didn’t question himself, he often woke up at night because of difficulty breathing, When spraying terbutaline aerosol into my mouth, I looked at my thin arm that broke when I broke it and asked myself:

"Why me?"

"Because a strong man understands his own natural strength, he may lose respect for strength."

The doctor answered him gently.

"But a weak person understands the true value of strength, and also, understands mercy."

That's why you were chosen.

Steve Rogers was lying in the transformation cabin, looking straight at him, feeling the needle piercing his skin, and the cold serum flowing into his body.

...something is wrong.He frowned.

As he breathed, he felt that the airway was getting hotter and hotter, accompanied by bursts of pain.He couldn't help but want to cough, his lungs were on fire.

This is definitely not a normal phenomenon after injection of serum.

In order to eliminate any interfering factors, the oxygen in the modified cabin is input after being filtered externally.Steve Rogers looked out through the foggy glass, and with a glance, he saw a bottle of laboratory reagents turned upside down beside the gas purification tank.

...contaminants in the oxygen supply.

This was obvious, he who was trapped in the remodeling cabin could spot it at a glance...but he was the only one who noticed it.

So many white coats, so many guards, each should be more vigilant than him, but all of them are like puppets, doing their own work mechanically, turning a blind eye to obvious abnormalities, and the whole laboratory is in a strange state dead silence.

... Dead end.

This time it was a complete, dead end.

Steve Rogers thought.

What else can he do?There was nothing he could do.He has nowhere to escape, nothing to do, nowhere to turn for help, his hands and feet are bound, his mouth is bitten with soft glue, he can't move, he can't make a sound, the polluted oxygen is still trying to rush into his respiratory tract , tore his lungs apart.

'...Why me? '

The silent inquiry was still on the lips.

—Why him?

He knew early on that the world wanted him dead.

Take away relatives, cut off friends, deprive of help, all time, all places, all ways, as long as there is an opportunity, the world will give everything to crush him to death.He yearned for help countless times, but the black veil was always between people and him. No matter whether he was dying or crying for help, no one could see him.

—the world would have liked to put him to death.

Steve Rogers clenched his fists.

—then he'll fight anything that tries to take his life, and live!

If you can't run away with your feet, you can't beat your hands with your hands, you can't make a sound and cry, what else can a skinny guy covered in diseases do?

……

The sound of breathing in the modification cabin stopped.

Steve Rogers held his breath.

Since oxygen is poisonous, stop breathing.

He had to live, it was the only thing he could do.

As for why you have to live...

Those blue eyes were in a trance for a while.

...he couldn't remember.

……

Think in terms of biology—how long does it take to transform a life?

It took 35 million years for the emergence of life, 600 billion years for aquatic to terrestrial life, 20 million years for dinosaurs, [-] million years for humans, three years for Frankenstein, and three years for Dr. For two years...and Steve Rogers, as long as he holds his breath for more than [-] seconds, his fragile lungs will tear and hurt.

How long can he last?

When he was still conscious and could count silently, he counted more than 130 numbers.The time without energy to count is probably longer.

No one noticed the vital signs screen, the peak of the electrocardiogram screamed and climbed upwards, the heartbeat speed reached the limit, and every second that passed, he was getting closer to death.

Steve Rogers' hands were bruised, his eyes were red, and his pupils rolled up uncontrollably.The field of vision was dark, and the golden light flickered frantically.His nostrils twitched wildly, subconsciously craving even a little bit of oxygen from charity.The mouth is open, like a stranded fish.

...He's going to give up.

He couldn't take it anymore--

The glass in the laboratory suddenly shattered, and then there was a "plop" sound from the direction of the purification pool.

"Who!!!"

The dead laboratory finally came alive.People who were previously marionettes finally became conscious.

"Guards get ready! Watch out for attacks!"

"What's going on! Why does the instrument show that the test subject is not breathing!"

"Oxygen delivery failed!"

"Oxygen is polluted! Oxygen is polluted!"

Howard Stark's mind went blank, he got up and strode towards the purification pool, his heart was instantly chilled when he saw the container bottle lying beside the purification pool.He gritted his teeth and looked towards the purification pool, only to find that the purification liquid, which had shown an obviously polluted color just now, was restored to cleanliness at a speed visible to the naked eye.

That 'plop' - Howard Stark immediately thought of the thing that fell into the purification pool just now, and couldn't figure it out.

What fell into it?

no one knows.

Only Steve Rogers knows.

Taking advantage of the dead of night, he jumped down from the purification pool, fished out the undissolved neutralizer at the bottom of the pool, and stuffed it into a beautiful glass jar together with the unfinished pills.

The chili powder on his hand, the antipyretics hidden in his storage box, the neutralizing agent that fell into the purification pool...

Although, the world wanted to kill him.

However, there is another person who wants to save him.

Steve Rogers kept these little miracles, one after another, well kept in his heart.

He wants to see that person.

He wants to see her.

So he must not give up.

He has to fight.

Steve Rogers was favored by death all the time: he drenched in the air full of cannon fodder, passed the bloody ruins, bathed in the flying iron filings of shells, and walked through the fierce rain of bullets.The world let him die at all times at the same time, in the alley where the fists were pounded, in the night when the scarlet fever went unnoticed, in the vaccinated laboratory, in every battle against the enemy, in every A fight to save the people is underway.

He again struggles to respawn all the time at the same time.

Small miracles piled up in his heart, like a gorgeous and crazy firework that drove away all death and ignited his life.He lives under the pressure of the world, he runs in the dark, he escapes all death, he saves all who can be saved, he fights, he fights, he saves, he lives, he fights with his bare hands With a man who loves unreservedly, but he has never been able to find her, from spring to winter, from Brooklyn to Berlin, from the first time he became aware of her existence to the moment he was about to hit the iceberg that lay before him— —

"Wakeup."

A voice whispered in his ear.

"If you don't wake up, she will die."

……

...Ah, so it is.

Steve Rogers was driving the fighter plane, staring at the approaching iceberg, listening to the anxious retention in the communicator, and closed his eyes.

He couldn't find her because she didn't belong to this world.

Then...

——Leave from the world!

He unbuckled his seat belt, tore off the door of the flight cabin, and jumped, falling into the icy sea like a kite with a broken string.

This is a desperate choice, this is the pursuit without hesitation, this is the faith of a lonely life, this is Sisyphus yearning for the earth, Prometheus yearning for the fire, the long-searched warrior opens his arms with trust and love that cleanses the soul , embracing towards the ultimate miracle——

The cage of free will that Celephis imprisoned was shattered inch by inch!

The warrior took back his time!Defended his territory!Shouting angrily, he tore all the shackles out of his body, and reached out to embrace his sun!

Steve Rogers opened his eyes.

The sky-blue iris shines brightly.

The author says:

Sorry for being late, I'm back!I wish you all a Happy New Year!Happy and healthy new year!All comments are rewarded!