Chapter 44: In My BGM, I Am Invincible
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Steve's fists slammed into the sandbag.
Each punch echoed like a thunderclap.
Standing nearby, Howard was monitoring the recorded data on the screen, his heart filled with shock.
"Ninefold physical enhancement, far surpassing the original serum's fivefold boost."
Howard was in disbelief. "How did Allen accomplish this?"
And it wasn't just that—Steve had been pummeling the sandbag for over half an hour, showing no signs of fatigue.
His superhuman stamina could sustain prolonged combat operations, completely overshadowing Dr. Erskine's super serum.
"This is terrifying. It's practically on the level of demigods in mythology."
As a trained agent, Carter had undergone physical enhancement training, so she understood exactly what a ninefold increase in physical capabilities and superhuman stamina meant.
With the right combat training, Steve wouldn't just be capable of taking on nine enemies at once—he could fight a hundred, maybe even a thousand.
Currently, in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s agent ranking system, the highest-ranking Level 8 agent, Dum Dum Dugan, would probably take ages to recover after taking just one punch from Steve.
"Steve hasn't even reached his limit yet. Given the adaptation and growth period, I estimate it'll take about three months. By then, his physical capabilities will conservatively reach fifteenfold, and his neural and cognitive functions will also be enhanced proportionally."
Howard was beyond astonished. At the same time, he felt relieved that Allen didn't have the materials to mass-produce more of the serum.
A group of superhumans like this… Once the war ended and they reintegrated into society, the potential risks would be enormous. If even one of them went astray, the consequences would be unthinkable.
Allen openly admitted he couldn't recreate the Bacchus Factor-like serum.
For one, he wasn't the original creator of the super serum—he had merely improved upon the existing formula.
---
"Old man, I've come to check on you!"
Carrying an old-fashioned tape recorder, Allen approached Steve with an air of wisdom. "A sandbag is just an object; people are living. You need to use your brain when fighting."
Steve stopped his punches and looked at Allen in confusion. "You know hand-to-hand combat?"
"Of course, EZ."
Allen set the tape recorder down and said, "First, I need to pick a proper BGM."
He pressed play, and music started playing.
Allen frowned slightly and immediately switched tracks.
"This doesn't feel right."
"Not my style."
"This one's too overloaded with heavy metal."
"I prefer agricultural heavy metal."
…
After switching through over a dozen songs, Allen found that the music of this era simply didn't match his taste.
"Oh, come on!"
Frustrated, Allen kicked the tape recorder away with a look of disdain. "What kind of garbage taste is this? Even the sound of my stomach troubles is more melodic."
It was clear that Allen's mental state was… unstable.
Howard and Carter silently watched his antics.
"Allen, stop fooling around. I don't want to hurt you." Steve said with concern.
"Kid, you're quite arrogant."
Allen's eyes widened as he spoke in a cold tone. "You're the first person to say you're afraid of hurting me."
"Dun-dun-dun… Come on, baby, I am a man who carries his own BGM."
In an instant, Allen entered his rhythm. His legs moved like a tango dancer, weaving back and forth, while his head dodged side to side at such high speeds that his face became a blur—his torso, however, remained perfectly still.
"Dun-dun-dun… Sissy, make your move already."
"Dun-dun-dun… Seeing my speed, are you scared now?"
Steve realized that if he didn't humor Allen a little, he'd probably keep pestering him.
"Alright, here I come."
Steve threw a controlled punch, careful not to accidentally kill Allen with a single blow.
A simple, unremarkable punch—naturally, it was impossible for it to land.
"Dun-dun-dun… Bubble butt sissy, did you forget to eat? Is your cute little punch meant to tickle the enemy to death?"
"Dun-dun-dun… Are you a comedy act? Did you train under Master Jin?"
"Dun-dun-dun… Did the super serum pump up your muscles but shrink your kidneys? That weak punch of yours feels so soft."
…
Allen never threw a punch—his mouth, however, was working overtime.
Even the calmest person had a breaking point, and Steve gradually increased the strength of his punches.
Yet, he still couldn't land a single hit on Allen, as if the latter could predict his attacks in advance.
Howard and Carter were both astounded by Allen's agility.
Is this how crazy people fight?
Steve had long abandoned any sense of underestimation—he was now treating the fight with full seriousness.
He threw punches at full force, but after going all out, his breathing became heavy.
In contrast, Allen was still humming his so-called BGM, bobbing his head, showing no signs of exhaustion.
"Dun-dun-dun… Lesson one, if you can't beat your enemy in close combat, use a gun."
That made a lot of sense.
Within ten steps, a bullet is always faster and deadlier.
"Dun-dun-dun… Lesson two, when locked in a stalemate, mental attacks can be effective. For example: Sissy, did you forget to eat? Overworked yourself last night? You should probably be placed in the senior citizens' league. Remember to sit at the kids' table during meals. No wonder your wife complains about you at night…"
"Dun-dun-dun… Lesson three, if all else fails, call for backup. Under the banner of justice, do the most underhanded thing."
Carter pondered these three lessons.
Her conclusion?
If you have a gun and don't use it, you're an idiot. Talking trash in a fight can throw your opponent off. And if you can gang up on someone, never fight fair.
"Allen!"
"Huh?"
At that moment, Wilson rushed into the training room.
Hearing someone call his name, Allen instinctively turned his head.
Wham!
The next second, Steve's punch connected with Allen's face.
Like an arrow shot from a bow, Allen flew straight across the room.
Boom!
Allen's head embedded itself into the wall.
"Oh no! Someone help him!"
Howard hurried over, worried that if Allen had been punched to death, the situation would spiral out of control.
"Pfft… I got careless and didn't dodge."
Allen pulled his head out of the wall, dusted himself off, and showed no sign of injury.
Regaining his composure, Steve asked with concern, "Allen, are you okay?"
"I'm fine. My brain wasn't normal to begin with—I won't sue you."
Allen flipped his hair back with confidence. "Actually, I feel even more energized now."
Howard scrutinized him carefully before cautiously asking, "Allen, can I study your body?"
Hearing this, Allen immediately jumped back a step, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave Howard a wary look.
"Oh-ho… Howard, you really do covet my gorgeous physique."
"Stop messing around! The military is sending people to inspect the latest research results."
Wilson was genuinely anxious. Working as Allen's assistant, he knew firsthand just how insane the guy could be.
"Finally, it's time for me to showcase my genius."
Allen smirked proudly at Wilson and instructed, "Bring over my top ten inventions."
Wilson hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Those are your top ten inventions?
The military might pull their funding on the spot.
"Everything is under control."
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