"You'll fight," he murmurs, shaking his head as he doublechecks the syringe of Cortexiphan. "We're just giving you the means to win. And to answer both your questions, yes. You were both designed as soldiers, from what we understand, but neither design went... quite far enough."

He bends to inject the Cortexiphan into Steve's IV, and Olivia jerks forward, yanking hard at her restraints even though there's no give to them, nothing to gain from fighting but bruises. "Wait, stop. You can't- Cortexiphan was designed for children, it's not-"

He doesn't stop. The needle goes into the IV; the plunger depresses. Olivia holds her breath, watching Steve in barely concealed panic.

"True. Adult subjects don't tend to survive, but we don't have the time for children. And with your friend's healing factor..." He withdraws, sets the first syringe aside, and turns to Olivia with the second in hand. "We're sure he'll be better than fine."