Marvel's Kryptonian Scientist Chapter 28 28

Even in its current state, Black Queen was already enough.

If sothing like Ultron ever erged, it wouldn't survive long online. Black Queen would isolate it, dissect it, and erase it before it could spread.

—

"Calculations complete."

Drex Valen leaned back slightly, a can of soda in hand. He'd barely finished a few drinks before the results were ready.

Efficient.

As expected.

—

He reviewed the data.

"Only ten viable super bio-enhanced configurations… including Blonsky."

His gaze lingered on the projections.

"That's with nearly every known genetic sequence on the planet."

—

There were still gaps, of course.

So species were too rare. Too difficult to obtain. Their genetic data remained incomplete.

But even accounting for that—

Ten.

That was the ceiling.

—

Drex exhaled softly.

"Not enough."

—

Which ant one thing.

He needed sothing beyond standard biology.

—

"Mutations," he said quietly. "Outliers."

The Hulk.

Ben Grimm.

Entities that broke the rules instead of following them.

—

Peter Parker crossed his mind briefly.

Technically, he qualified—his spider DNA had integrated into his geno.

But it wasn't useful here.

His genetic alteration was stable, internalized.

Latent.

It didn't manifest as a transformable state the way Drex's bio-enhanced frawork required.

Black Queen had already simulated every viable arachnid genetic combination.

None of them reached the threshold.

—

Blonsky's current form, on the other hand—

Set the standard.

A super bio-enhanced soldier capable of physically engaging the Hulk in a direct confrontation.

—

Even the first-generation units could take on tanks.

—

But against a full-scale human military?

Not yet.

—

For now, they remained in the shadows.

Waiting.

Building.

—

A global takeover—like Kronos had once attempted—was possible.

But Drex had no interest in ruling the world.

—

His ambitions stretched further.

—

Space.

—

Why compete over a single planet's resources with billions of people who hadn't even left their own solar system?

He'd seen what lay beyond.

Built on it.

Lived among it.

—

This—

Was just the beginning.

—

The ssage spread quickly.

Through back channels.

Encrypted networks.

Word of mouth among the right people.

—

A tournant.

—

Location: New York.

No rules.

No limits.

—

A fight until one side couldn't stand up again.

Or didn't stand up at all.

—

Officially, it was called an "unrestricted combat event."

In reality—

It was underground death fighting.

—

Once, that world had been thriving.

Now, it was fading.

Legitimate sports had overtaken it—regulated matches, global broadcasts, sponsorships, safer conditions.

Higher pay.

Lower risk.

—

Underground fighting couldn't compete.

Too brutal.

Too unstable.

Too final.

—

Most people wouldn't risk their lives for it.

Not when there were better options.

—

But there was always an exception.

—

Incentive.

—

Raise the stakes high enough—

And people would co.

—

Even professionals.

—

Even champions.

—

This ti, the prize wasn't money alone.

It was sothing else.

Sothing far more valuable.

—

Drex needed candidates.

Not just strong ones.

Survivors.

People forged in real combat.

—

And for that—

There was no better filter than a fight where losing ant death.

—

So he reached out.

—

Wilson Fisk.

The Kingpin of New York's underworld.

—

Fisk hadn't expected it.

Not even close.

Drex Valen wasn't soone you dealt with.

He was soone you stayed out of the way of.

A man who had reshaped global industry.

Who governnts couldn't control.

Who even the most powerful financial groups treated carefully.

—

If Drex wanted Fisk gone—

He'd be gone.

By morning.

—

That was the difference between them.

—

But Fisk had value.

And Drex knew how to use it.

—

"Spread the word," Drex said.

His tone was calm.

Final.

—

"Make sure every capable fighter on the planet hears about it."

A pause.

"Whether they show up or not doesn't matter."

"They just need to know."

—

Fisk listened.

Silent.

Attentive.

—

"And the prize?" he asked.

—

Drex didn't hesitate.

"One hundred War Machine units."

—

For a mont—

Even Fisk's composure cracked.

—

That wasn't a prize.

That was an army.

—

The United States had barely fielded that number.

And even now, they were expanding their orders after recent… complications.

—

Because War Machine units had started appearing in places they weren't supposed to.

—

Terrorist groups.

Ard.

Equipped.

—

Interfering with Arican operations overseas.

—

The irony wasn't lost on anyone.

But no one could say much.

Not openly.

—

Stark Industries had never been clean.

Neither had the rest of the weapons market.

—

Everyone knew how it worked.

—

anwhile, Russia had deployed its own units.

Red-painted.

Heavily modified.

Layered with additional armor and weapons until they resembled walking fortresses.

Whether they could still fly—

Was another question entirely.

—

China had followed suit.

So had others.

—

With orders pouring in worldwide—

The United States had no choice.

They increased their own procurent.

—

And now—

A hundred more units were being dangled as a prize.

—

Fisk exhaled slowly.

Already calculating.

Already adapting.

—

Because if he entered that arena—

Victory wasn't just possible.

It was likely.

—

And if he won—

He wouldn't just control New York.

—

He'd control sothing much bigger.