Leo grinned, that same mysterious smirk curling across his face. The kind that screamed I've already thought three steps ahead.
God, he loved this feeling—being in control.
General Ross had only ever seen him in his armored form, never his true self. So, this time, he'd let No. 18 handle things.
And knowing Ross, the old bastard would probably start drooling over her genes next.
"Perfect," Leo muttered. "Let him dig his own grave."
No. 18 caught his sly little smile. She didn't know what devious plan her "Master" was cooking up, but she could tell one thing for sure—someone was about to get screwed.
She rolled her eyes. Bad Master… but damn, I love it.
Before Leo could even give the order, she spoke up first with a teasing smirk:
"Dear bad Master, do you want me to send them to hell for you?"
Leo twitched.
"'Dear bad Master,' huh? You've been watching too many dramas."
Slap!
He gave her a light smack on the butt and laughed. "Watch your mouth, you little troublemaker!"
"Oh nooo, bad Master! I'm sorry!"
Her mouth said sorry, but her body definitely didn't look sorry. She pinched his waist playfully.
Leo sighed, giving her another light swat, the sound echoing with a teasing pop.
"Behave," he said, voice low. "See that big green guy? Knock him out."
"And that disgusting yellow bastard? Slap him into paste."
He gestured casually toward the battlefield—Hulk roaring, Abomination snarling.
Abomination, somehow, had already recovered from his crotch-crushing defeat. The bastard had a solid healing factor, Leo had to admit.
No. 18 rolled her eyes again, feigning annoyance, though her grin gave her away.
"Hehe, even my shameless Master can't resist me," she thought smugly. "Guess I'll charm him to death later."
"Stop groping me already, you perv!" she said aloud, snorting. "I get it! Green guy and yellow freak—leave it to me!"
Her knuckles cracked like gunfire.
"It's been way too long since I've had a decent warm-up."
Her soft, sweet voice turned sharp with excitement. There was violence in her blood, and she loved it.
"Wait," Leo said suddenly, raising a hand. "When you're done, grab me some Hulk blood. Don't let it go to waste."
No. 18 didn't even turn around. "Got it, nagging Master!"
She clenched her fists and dashed forward, golden hair whipping in the wind.
Leo smirked.
He had plans for that blood.
Umbrella's Hive Base was already in his control—why not make use of it?
If he could combine the Hulk's gamma DNA with a T-Virus strain, he might be able to engineer a Super T-Virus Serum.
The T-Virus already enhanced human physiology beyond limits. The new version might awaken superpowers.
And in the Marvel world, that meant one thing—limitless potential.
Didn't a junkie once become the Sentinel after one injection?
If Leo could get Hulk's blood, he'd pass it to Red Queen for research within a few days. Then maybe "recruit" (read: bribe heavily) geniuses like Dr. Octopus and Dr. Curt Connors.
With their brains and Umbrella's tech, he might not recreate Hulk… but he could damn sure make a controllable version.
As for Abomination?
Leo grimaced.
The guy looked like a rotten banana dipped in mud and covered in spikes.
Disgusting.
"Ugly's not a crime," Leo muttered. "But scaring me sure is."
While Leo was lost in his scheming, No. 18 had already taken to the sky—literally.
Her flight ability, the Sky Dance Technique, worked beautifully.
Hundreds of cameras caught her soaring figure. Between the military's live feed and satellite coverage, the whole world was now watching.
Within minutes, America's screens were filled with her image.
And then she did something unthinkable.
She flew straight toward the Ex-Wife Missile.
"Get up for me!" she yelled, voice ringing through the sky.
Her petite figure caught the massive missile midair. Muscles flexed, veins stood out, and with a fierce cry—
She swung it around.
And the impossible happened.
The missile's trajectory changed.
The entire nation went wild.
"Oh my God—who is she?!"
"Mutant! She's gotta be a mutant!"
"No, mutants only have one ability—what the hell is this?!"
"She reminds me of Magneto—no, wait, she's even crazier!"
"She's saving people! She's a superhero!"
"Wow! She's hot and she's badass!"
From homes to bars to Times Square, Americans were screaming their lungs out.
This was the land of individual hero worship, after all—where beautiful women and explosions were national holidays.
And now, they had all of it at once.
Beauty. Power. Chaos. Justice.
No. 18 had just become an overnight sensation.
Then the cheers turned to stunned silence.
"What—what's she doing now?!"
"Oh my God—she's flying straight at the helicopter!"
"She's insane!"
"DO IT! Take down those bastards!"
"She's challenging the U.S. Military!"
No. 18, holding the Ex-Wife Missile like a javelin, rocketed straight toward Ross's command chopper.
BOOM!
The sky lit up.
Flames tore across the horizon as the helicopter exploded into a fireball.
"Where is she?! Did she—did she just die with it?!"
"No way! No hero's that dumb!"
"Wait—look! Down there!"
Through the rising smoke, a golden figure landed gracefully on the ground.
No. 18 stood tall, brushing dust off her arm like she'd just taken a stroll.
"This… this can't be real," one soldier whispered.
General Ross's jaw tightened. His mind was racing, trying to comprehend what he'd just witnessed.
Then—he started laughing.
A slow, manic laugh that twisted into something feral.
"Hahaha! Perfect! Get her! I don't know who that Steel Man was before, but this one—she won't get away!"
His face contorted with obsession.
"General," his adjutant stammered, pale as a ghost. "W-we can't fight that. We should retreat!"
But Ross didn't even hear him.
His gaze burned like a madman's.
He wasn't looking at a threat anymore—he was looking at a weapon he wanted to own.
In the sky, No. 18 smirked down at the chaos below.
"Idiots," she muttered. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."
And somewhere behind her, Leo was already smiling like a devil.
[Mission Progress: Chaos Value +1500. Public Attention +3000. U.S. Military Agitation +200.]
[Host performance rating: Flawless. Reward: 1 random S-tier gene sample.]
Leo chuckled. "Now that's what I call prime-time television."