"Dr. Connors, these are the live vampire specins you requested."
The bio-enhanced soldier spoke in a flat, emotionless tone.
After conditioning, most of their emotional range had been stripped away. They followed orders with chanical precision. Recently, Drex Valen had even begun reaching out to Emil Blonsky, laying the groundwork to lure him in and convert him into another bio-enhanced subject.
Connors, however, barely noticed any of that.
His attention was locked on the captives.
Excitent flickered across his face.
"If we can isolate viable genetic traits…" he murmured, already stepping forward. "There's a real possibility we can integrate them into the serum."
Vampire genetics.
Or sothing close to it.
—
Drex was already aware of the operation. Nothing involving bio-enhanced soldiers moved without his approval.
Once Connors completed sample extraction from all one hundred vampires, Drex joined the research personally.
He studied the data, eyes scanning through sequences and anomalies.
"Interesting…"
His voice carried quiet curiosity.
"This isn't strictly genetic. It behaves more like a viral mutation layered over the host."
That explained certain inconsistencies.
In one continuity, vampires originated from Dracula. In another… they could be altered, engineered, modified. It depended on which version of reality you were standing in.
Drex didn't dwell on it.
What mattered was utility.
And this—
This had potential.
The vampire strain could act as a carrier.
A frawork.
A delivery system.
The foundation for the second generation of the enhanced bio-serum.
Now all that remained was iteration.
Refinent.
Combining gene sets until the optimal configuration erged.
—
"War Machine sales have reached one hundred units."
Urd's voice cut through the lab's low hum.
Drex glanced up.
"One hundred?"
He considered it for a second.
"That's forty billion dollars."
A clean number.
Satisfying.
—
"That's not how it works, sir," Urd replied evenly. "Production costs. Materials. Energy consumption. Labor."
A beat.
"And taxes. The IRS doesn't forget."
—
Drex paused.
Right.
That.
Even empires had to pay the toll.
"Then it's less impressive than it sounds," he said lightly.
But not by much.
—
More importantly—
The product had already proven itself.
—
The United States deployed War Machine units in the Middle East.
The results were… decisive.
Drex had used a steel alloy for the armor—but not conventional steel. His version pushed far beyond standard industrial limits, combining resilience with structural integrity that conventional materials couldn't match.
Three War Machine units, painted in Arican insignia, swept through a terrorist stronghold.
No casualties.
No prolonged engagent.
No uncertainty.
—
Heavy weapons were deployed against them.
Anti-tank rounds.
Explosives.
None of it mattered.
The suits didn't just absorb punishnt—
They avoided it.
—
The recorded footage, captured directly through the suits' onboard systems, was edited and broadcast.
Branded as:
A clean, decisive anti-terror operation.
—
The public response was overwhelming.
Efficient.
Precise.
Overwhelming superiority.
It was everything people imagined modern warfare should look like—controlled, surgical, victorious.
—
Drex watched the footage once.
That was enough.
The chain reaction had begun.
—
Wall Street approved.
The major defense contractors approved.
The investors—the ones who actually steered decisions—approved.
They didn't just like the War Machine.
They wanted more of it.
—
A single unit could replace an entire squad.
More.
Could Captain Arica achieve that level of efficiency?
No.
Then what had all that investnt into the super soldier program actually accomplished?
Billions spent.
Decades lost.
For sothing inferior.
—
There were results, of course.
A certain green anomaly ca to mind.
But it couldn't be controlled.
And uncontrollable assets were failures.
—
War Machine wasn't.
—
After several encounters, even terrorist groups began to understand what they were facing.
Anti-armor weapons didn't work.
Tracking systems failed.
The suits were coated to evade radar detection, resist thermal locking, and disrupt laser targeting.
This wasn't a fight.
It was an imbalance.
—
Unless soone—like Tony Stark—managed a technological leap…
There was no answer.
—
And Tony?
He was occupied.
Obsessed.
Working toward sothing of his own.
—
That left the field open.
—
Eventually, so groups tried a different approach.
If they couldn't defeat War Machine…
They would buy it.
—
Contacts were made.
Quiet ones.
The assumption was simple:
If Stark Industries had leaks, if weapons could reach them before…
Then Blade Technology Industries would be no different.
Money was money.
—
They weren't wrong.
—
Drex didn't discriminate.
Once you entered this industry, moral posturing beca irrelevant.
Refusing custors on principle?
That was theater.
—
Criticism followed, of course.
Human rights organizations spoke out.
Loudly.
They labeled him worse than Tony Stark at his peak.
A mass executioner.
They claid War Machine accelerated the efficiency of human slaughter.
So even pushed accusations of cris against humanity.
—
Blade Technology Industries responded.
Swiftly.
Legal teams. PR divisions. External pressure.
In a system where influence and capital shaped narratives…
Dissent faded quickly.
—
The montum didn't slow.
It accelerated.
—
Russia moved first.
One hundred eighty units ordered.
No hesitation.
—
China followed.
More asured.
One hundred units.
—
Drex reviewed updated combat footage.
Arican units had already been modified.
Additional weapons systems had been mounted.
More firepower.
More versatility.
More excess.
—
He exhaled slowly.
"So they went to Stark Industries and Hamr Industries for upgrades."
Of course they did.
No one stayed passive when advantage was on the table.
—
That created a problem.
Version Two.
His next iteration.
Originally, it would have been a simple upgrade—more weapons, higher output.
Easy.
Predictable.
Profitable.
—
Now?
That wasn't enough.
They'd already reached that level themselves.
—
"Why are they this competent…" Drex muttered, almost amused.
He didn't want to improve performance further.
But now—
He had to.
—
The good news ca quickly.
Other nations—Britain, among them—placed orders after seeing the operational footage.
Real combat results spoke louder than any demonstration.
Even nations that had hesitated before now stepped in.
—
War Machine didn't require complex infrastructure.
No satellite dependency.
No specialized training pipeline.
The onboard AI handled most of the workload.
In theory—
Anyone could pilot it.
—
"Our total revenue has surpassed two hundred billion dollars."
Urd's voice carried sothing rare.
Excitent.
—
Drex wasn't surprised.
Not really.
Stark Industries had crossed that threshold only after transitioning into new energy.
Blade Technology Industries…
Had done it faster.
Much faster.
—
Different path.
Sa destination.
—
Only this ti—
The climb had just begun.
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