Stark Industries acquired a War Machine unit almost imdiately.
Obadiah Stane pinned his hopes on it.
If Tony—or the weapons division—could reverse-engineer the technology, then Stark Industries wouldn't fall behind Blade Technology Industries. The value of the War Machine was obvious to anyone with even a basic grasp of military strategy.
If they could replicate it, they could reclaim their position.
So they opened it up.
Carefully.
thodically.
Tony Stark led the process himself.
And then—
The armor detonated.
A violent, contained explosion tore through everything within a hundred-ter radius, reducing equipnt, infrastructure, and personnel to wreckage in an instant.
The only reason Tony survived was luck.
Seconds before detonation, a voice prompt had initiated a countdown.
He ran.
Others didn't.
—
The aftermath was imdiate.
Fury. Accusations. Legal threats.
Stark Industries demanded an explanation.
Blade Technology Industries responded with one.
Calm. Clinical.
The user manual clearly stated that any unauthorized disassembly would void all responsibility.
The consequences were the buyer's to bear.
—
Kryptonian technology and Earth technology weren't compatible in any aningful way. Differences in environnt, atmospheric conditions, and scientific foundations had pushed them down entirely separate paths.
Replication was already unlikely.
But Tony Stark wasn't "most people."
And Drex Valen knew that.
More importantly, the current Tony Stark wasn't the man he would one day beco.
So Drex added insurance.
Every War Machine unit was equipped with a self-destruct system.
If tampered with, it would erase itself—and anything nearby—completely.
No trace.
No second chances.
—
Other nations encountered similar outcos.
So learned the hard way.
So learned faster.
Only one group stopped before the point of no return.
They read the manual thoroughly… and backed off at the final stage.
—
Osborn Industries didn't escape the shockwave of change either.
The military canceled its super soldier serum contracts.
The losses were catastrophic—approaching tens of billions.
Years of research. Endless funding.
Gone.
With the primary investors pulling out, the project collapsed. Other shareholders forced it to shut down completely.
It wasn't personal.
It was practical.
Why invest in super soldiers when a single War Machine unit could outperform them?
No transport logistics.
No supply chains.
No biological instability.
One unit could wipe out a fully equipped force—infantry, armor, coordinated tactics—without breaking stride.
The age of warfare had shifted.
And the world responded.
A new arms race began.
—
Entire defense companies went under almost overnight.
Others scrambled to adapt.
And at the center of it all—
Drex Valen.
His na climbed rapidly through the underworld.
Assassination contracts appeared.
So offers reached as high as five hundred million dollars.
—
It didn't matter.
After unveiling the War Machine, Blade Technology Industries had secured sothing far more valuable than contracts.
Recognition.
The United States governnt elevated its status above even Stark Industries, designating it as a critical defense asset.
They offered military protection.
Drex refused.
He didn't need it.
Instead, Blade Technology Industries received authorization to operate ard security… with lethal force.
—
The facility transford.
Ard rcenaries from Blade's private security force occupied every periter.
Rifles ready.
Eyes sharp.
Inside, layered defenses tightened further.
Bio-enhanced soldiers patrolled in silent rotations.
Anyone attempting an assault—even soone on the level of Captain Arica—wouldn't make it far.
—
And at the center of this rising empire…
Drex Valen worked on sothing else entirely.
—
"Industrial-grade cockroach repellent," he said, glancing over the formula. "One application. No infestations for a week."
He moved to the next.
"Insect deterrent unit. Eliminates mosquitoes and flies for up to a month."
Another.
"Rodent control compound. Effective against most species. Duration: one month."
—
All of it was filed under Blade's pharmaceutical division.
Even the "Shatian Health Products" line had been absorbed into the catalog.
At first glance, the products seed trivial.
Almost laughable.
Compared to weapons that could reshape global power?
They were nothing.
—
They sold out.
Relentlessly.
Demand surged across markets.
Because they worked.
And because humanity had been dealing with these problems for far too long.
—
Urd stared at the revenue reports in disbelief.
Monthly profits had already crossed into nine figures.
And they were still climbing.
"For products like these?"
She looked at Drex, genuinely puzzled.
"This doesn't make sense."
—
"It makes perfect sense," Drex replied.
His tone was steady, matter-of-fact.
"The most overlooked markets are often the largest."
He tapped the data screen.
"Scale it globally. Six billion people. Every household."
He glanced at her.
"Now calculate the revenue."
—
It wasn't glamorous.
But it was unstoppable.
Costics. Pest control. Fertilizers.
Entire industries built on everyday problems—and massive, consistent demand.
And Drex's products didn't just compete.
They solved.
—
He didn't aim for total extermination.
Cockroaches, mosquitoes, rodents—they were part of the ecosystem.
Remove them entirely, and sothing else would collapse.
So the compounds focused on repulsion.
Containnt.
Keep them out of human spaces.
That was enough.
The rest of the world—streets, wilderness, sewer systems—could keep them.
—
With capital flowing in and Blade Technology Industries now holding global influence, Drex finally gained access to sothing previously out of reach.
Precision instrunts.
The kind reserved for national laboratories.
Rare.
Limited.
In so cases, fewer than ten units existed worldwide.
—
To Drex, they were still crude.
But they were usable.
For now.
No Fortress of Solitude.
No Kryptonian ship.
No advanced infrastructure waiting to be reclaid.
Everything had to be built from the ground up.
—
Unlike Clark.
Relying on strength alone, ignoring the technological edge of Krypton…
That path led to failure.
Repeatedly.
Drex had no intention of making the sa mistake.
—
Curt Connors, now reassigned from the collapsed super soldier program, was brought in.
Conditioned.
Rebuilt into a loyal researcher within World Serpent.
His new focus:
Bio-enhanced soldiers.
—
Drex's ambitions didn't stop there.
There were other targets.
Other possibilities.
If he could acquire the right genetic material—
The Hulk.
If that door opened…
Sothing far beyond current bio-weapons could erge.
—
Night settled over New York.
Dark.
Restless.
Alive in all the wrong ways.
—
Three black Chevrolet SUVs rolled to a stop outside an underground bar.
Music thudded beneath the surface like a heartbeat.
The doors opened.
Fifteen n stepped out.
Black tactical gear.
No insignia.
No hesitation.
—
The guards at the entrance barely had ti to react.
They were slamd against the wall in an instant.
"Is this the place?" the leader asked.
His voice was cold.
Flat.
Almost chanical.
—
"Heat signatures match long-term readings. This is it."
—
"Then we move."
—
The guards' expressions twisted.
Fangs extended.
Eyes sharpened.
Vampires.
—
It didn't matter.
The n holding them didn't flinch.
Didn't react.
Didn't loosen their grip.
—
The steel door exploded inward under a single kick.
The team moved in.
Fast.
Efficient.
What followed was chaos—
Gunfire.
Crashes.
Screams.
Then—
Silence.
—
Less than twenty minutes later, it was over.
—
A heavy transport truck rolled in.
The operatives dragged bodies out of the bar—so unconscious, others sedated—and loaded them without ceremony.
Dozens of vampires.
Captured.
Contained.
—
The truck pulled away.
No sirens.
No witnesses.
—
Its destination was clear.
Blade Technology Industries.
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