After assigning Tony his new tasks, Marcus met with the latest addition to his undead army — Dr. Aldrich Killian. The man before him was no longer the violent, unstable figure he once was; instead, he had returned to the calm focus of a true researcher. When Marcus entered the lab, Killian was working intently at a mechanical workstation, tapping away with delicate precision. There was even a faint smile on his face — the rare, genuine satisfaction of an inventor seeing progress in his creation.
Marcus couldn't help but be surprised. So Killian has a side like this after all, he thought. The man might have been a fanatical villain, but it was undeniable — he was also a brilliant scientist.
"Ah, it's you," Killian said, noticing Marcus's presence. "So what should I call you now? Something like that short-haired girl does?"
"Marcus," he replied simply.
"Alright, Marcus." Killian chuckled bitterly. "I'm not exactly happy about it, but it seems I've lost to you this time. Still, I've got to admit — managing to bring Tony Stark under your control? That's something even I couldn't have pulled off. While I wasted years scheming for revenge against that arrogant man, you went ahead and made him your subordinate. Makes all my efforts look childish in comparison."
Marcus smiled faintly. "We all have our childish moments. I've been blinded by hatred myself — and made plenty of mistakes because of it."
He was referring, of course, to his reckless revenge against the thugs who had murdered him back when all of this began. Had he resisted that impulse, perhaps things wouldn't have spiraled into such a dire state today.
His gaze soon shifted to the peculiar mechanical device on Killian's workbench. It resembled a robotic arm. Marcus pointed at it. "What are you working on? I remember assigning you to research the Extremis Virus — not robotics."
"Oh, it's very much related," Killian replied, instantly animated by the chance to discuss his invention. Like all scientists, his excitement flared the moment the topic turned to his work. He lifted the mechanical arm and attached it to his left shoulder — it extended upward, like a third arm sprouting from his body. At the palm of its mechanical hand was an emitter identical to the repulsor cannon in Tony Stark's Iron Man armor.
"This was inspired by Tony's pulse cannon — the one powered directly by the Arc Reactor," Killian explained proudly. "But this arm draws energy from an Extremis-enhanced organism's internal heat source, converting it into thermal energy and firing it as a concentrated laser beam. Like this!"
The arm's metallic fingers spread open. A bright, molten red light began to swirl in its palm — then, with a sharp hiss, a blinding beam of crimson energy shot forward, slicing a smoking line across the floor. The laser vanished a second later, and the scorched path it left behind detonated in a burst of heat, turning the concrete beneath into loose, molten ash.
"This," Killian declared with a grin, "is a Death Ray — powered by the concentrated thermal energy of the Extremis Virus. I'd bet my life its firepower rivals Tony's pulse cannon. Anyone hit by this thing will be shaking hands with God before they hit the ground."
His tone carried the unshakable pride of a man who had just redefined destruction itself — and rightly so. With this Death Ray, Killian had transcended the limits of his previous hand-to-hand combat style; he had evolved from a brawler into a true ranged powerhouse — a veritable "battle mage" of science and fire.
Under his and Tony's combined genius, Marcus was certain they would soon develop even more terrifying weapons capable of unleashing the full potential of the Extremis Virus. Combat, defense, innovation — Killian excelled in all three. He was an invaluable asset. And Marcus's ambitions didn't stop there; he fully intended to recruit even more powerful villains like Killian in the near future.
"Good," Marcus said approvingly. "Begin mass production of this mechanical arm as soon as possible. We're going to need them. And prepare your personal combat gear — you're coming with me on the next mission."
Killian raised an eyebrow. "Mission? What kind of mission?"
"A prison break," Marcus said simply.
"Prison break?" Killian repeated, intrigued. He had never heard of this plan before, but something in his gut told him this was no small-scale operation. "Which prison are we talking about?"
Marcus's lips curled into a faint smile. "The most secure one in the world."
---
August 1st, 6:00 AM – Sokovia, Eastern Europe.
Hydra's Secret Research Facility.
Baron Wolfgang von Strucker stood across from a shady black-market dealer, his expression grim. As one of Hydra's highest-ranking leaders, he was acutely aware of the chaos unfolding across the United States. For someone to bypass every level of security, escape American soil, and find his supposedly secret base in Eastern Europe — this "merchant" had to have powerful backing.
"Baron Strucker," the man said casually, reclining in an expensive leather chair surrounded by Hydra soldiers. "I'm just a courier. Please, don't make things difficult for a small-time businessman like me."
A dozen rifles were trained on him — even the Winter Soldier and Crossbones stood by, ready to tear the intruder apart at a single order. Strucker's cold eyes shifted to the table, where two peculiar items rested: a sleek blue helmet and a vial of blood-red liquid. One glance told him these were no ordinary goods.
His voice hardened. "Tell me exactly what these are. Who sent you? And how did you find this place? Lie to me once, and you'll leave this room in pieces."
The merchant chuckled nervously. "Y'know, I had a feeling this job was too good to be true. They offered me a ridiculous amount just to deliver a couple of trinkets. I should've known better."
Despite his words, he showed no fear. Calmly, he reached inside his coat.
"Don't move!" one of the Hydra soldiers shouted, raising his weapon — but Strucker held up a hand to stop them.
The merchant withdrew three small metallic spheres and rolled them gently onto the table. They clinked together, rolling into position as if guided by unseen hands, forming a perfect equilateral triangle. Then, in a flash of white light, a holographic projection shimmered into existence above them.
The moment Strucker saw the figure's face, most of his doubts vanished.
It was none other than Aldrich Killian, leader of AIM — the Advanced Idea Mechanics — a faction that had once splintered off from Hydra's own scientific division.
Or at least… that's what they still believed.
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T/N:
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