Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

American soldiers were expensive.

Outfitting a single infantryman cost thousands of dollars before he ever stepped onto a battlefield. Then came salary, housing allowances, medical coverage, hazard pay, retirement benefits, disability compensation...

The cost only climbed from there.

And if a soldier returned home permanently injured, the government would continue paying for him for decades.

Military accountants hated those numbers.

There had even been ugly rumors, quietly denied by the Pentagon, that certain officials had once complained it would be cheaper if severely wounded soldiers simply died on the battlefield.

Whether the story was true hardly mattered.

It reflected a simple reality.

Modern armies were incredibly expensive to maintain.

Now imagine replacing those soldiers with something that required no paycheck...

No pension...

No insurance...

And if damaged beyond repair, could simply be destroyed and replaced.

If it fought well enough, the Department of Defense would throw money at it.

Justin Hammer practically had dollar signs in his eyes.

"Really?"

"That’s actually possible?"

Sarah regarded him with the patient expression one reserved for someone asking whether fish needed bicycles.

"Of course."

She glanced toward the creature floating inside the tank.

"Why would anyone pay a dog’s salary?"

"What would it spend the money on?"

"Online shopping?"

Inside the tank, Habus, who had been floating motionless for hours, gave the tiniest twitch of his tail.

Personally, he felt online shopping sounded wonderful.

Justin coughed awkwardly.

"Right..."

"That was a stupid question."

He rubbed the back of his neck before asking another.

"They’re still animals."

"So... instinct."

He hesitated.

"I’m asking whether they might..."

Sarah finished the sentence for him.

"Lose control?"

"Freeze under certain conditions?"

"Attack friendly forces?"

"Ignore orders?"

"Exactly."

Justin nodded.

He had intentionally left the question vague, hoping she’d volunteer the reassuring answers herself.

Instead, Sarah’s expression became colder.

"If that’s your concern..."

"...then you’ve dramatically underestimated Umbrella’s biotechnology."

"During development, we modify their genetic structure."

"We remove fear."

"Completely."

She tapped the side of the incubation tank near Habus’ head.

"We also implant a miniature control device."

"S2 Unit."

"It allows operators to issue simple behavioral commands remotely."

"The creatures attack only designated targets."

Justin’s eyes widened.

Sarah continued as though she were presenting quarterly sales figures.

"Imagine a town occupied by terrorists."

"Hostages everywhere."

"Sending conventional troops inside guarantees casualties."

"Probably civilian deaths as well."

She rested one hand against the glass.

"Our creatures don’t have that problem."

"Release them after dark."

"The entire town becomes a hunting ground."

"They infiltrate naturally."

"They track targets by scent."

"They silently eliminate every terrorist."

"The hostages survive."

She paused.

"Psychological trauma not included."

Justin swallowed.

"And if something goes wrong?"

Sarah smiled.

It wasn’t a comforting smile.

"The S2 Unit also contains a final safety protocol."

She mimed pressing a button.

"One command."

"Instant brain death."

Silence.

Justin felt a chill crawl down his spine.

"...Could you do the same thing to enhanced humans?"

Gene editing.

Emotional manipulation.

Remote control.

An implanted kill switch.

Individually, each concept was disturbing.

Together...

It was nightmare fuel.

Sarah’s smile widened ever so slightly.

"Certainly."

"Never underestimate Umbrella’s biotechnology."

Justin forced a laugh.

"I... wasn’t planning to."

Without realizing it, he had already taken half a step backward.

Now he finally understood why even Whitehall treated Umbrella with unusual caution.

Any organization capable of quietly modifying the human brain was terrifying.

Imagine trusting your personal bodyguard.

One evening someone abducts him.

Implants a device in his skull.

The next morning he greets you as usual...

...then suddenly detonates himself beside you.

No one with any sense wanted enemies who could do that.

The room fell quiet.

Justin eventually cleared his throat.

"Would it be possible..."

He pointed toward the incubation tank.

"...for me to take a few photographs?"

"And perhaps copies of its test data?"

"I’d like to use them when pitching the project to the Department of Defense."

He leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"And once they see this..."

"They’ll definitely ask about enhanced humans."

He chuckled.

"They always want the next step."

That much was almost guaranteed.

Officially, mass-producing super soldiers would be politically impossible.

Unofficially...

A small classified special operations unit was another matter entirely.

Powerful enough to tear enemy fighters apart with their bare hands.

Completely deniable.

Officially nonexistent.

Governments loved projects that didn’t exist.

"When that happens," Justin said smugly, "Hammer Industries becomes the military’s most important partner."

"Even S.H.I.E.L.D. will have to think twice before touching us."

Sarah’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

She disliked the word us.

"No."

"Not yet."

She rejected the request outright.

Then she pressed a button beside the tank.

Colored chemicals flooded into the incubation chamber.

Thousands of bubbles erupted through the liquid.

Hidden behind the swirling chemicals, Habus vanished in a flash of fel magic.

A heartbeat later...

He collapsed onto the floor of the basement beneath Evenson’s shop.

Coughing.

Gagging.

Kicking wildly.

The sudden rush of chemicals had caught him completely off guard, and he’d swallowed far more than any demon ever should.

A familiar voice sounded nearby.

"Habus?"

Evenson looked genuinely concerned.

"What happened to you?"

What happened?

Try spending three days submerged in a tube with hoses shoved into you.

Still...

Maybe his master actually cared.

Habus immediately flopped dramatically onto the floor.

Dead weight.

A perfect performance.

I’m dying.

Only premium dog food can save me.

Evenson sighed sympathetically.

"If you’re really that sick..."

"...you should rest."

He turned toward the back room.

"Taylor."

"Put Habus’ dinner away."

"He can eat tomorrow if he’s feeling better."

Habus launched upright with the speed of a missile.

He sprinted toward his food bowl without looking back.

Trusting this heartless warlock had been his first mistake.

Back in the laboratory, the colored chemicals gradually settled.

Justin stared.

The tank...

...was empty.

"W-What did you do?"

Sarah answered without the slightest hesitation.

"I disposed of a defective prototype."

She began refilling the tank with fresh nutrient solution.

"That specimen developed excessive muscle mass."

"It possessed tremendous strength."

"But sacrificed too much agility."

"It failed to meet our design requirements."

She spoke with absolute seriousness.

"I refuse to allow the Department of Defense to evaluate an inferior product."

She looked exactly like an executive obsessed with quality control.

In reality...

She simply couldn’t let Justin contact the military yet.

Her assignment wasn’t finished.

If Justin secured a contract today, what exactly was she supposed to deliver tomorrow?

There was only one Habus.

He’d already been seen by too many people.

Mass production?

She could certainly open a portal to the Twisting Nether.

There were plenty of Felhounds there.

Somehow she doubted the Pentagon would appreciate that supply chain.

Justin spread his hands.

"I can respect that."

"How much longer before it’s ready?"

"Not long."

Sarah didn’t even blink.

"If your equipment weren’t so inferior compared to Umbrella’s laboratories..."

"...I’d already be finished."

Justin frowned.

My equipment?

I bought everything you requested.

Though, considering Umbrella’s mysterious technology...

Perhaps their internal facilities really were that much better.

Or perhaps...

His so-called security director simply wasn’t much of a biologist.

"I’ll wait for your good news."

Justin turned to leave.

"Two days after Tony Stark’s Expo."

Sarah stopped him.

"I know you’re planning to unveil your Iron Soldiers there."

"You want to humiliate Tony Stark."

"If your presentation succeeds..."

"...your reputation will rise dramatically."

She smiled faintly.

"Your recommendation to the Department of Defense will carry much more weight."

Justin grinned.

"I like the way you think."

For a moment he could already picture himself eclipsing Tony Stark.

Elsewhere inside Hammer Industries, Ivan Vanko sat alone in his private workshop.

Code streamed across multiple monitors.

Rows of remote-controlled Iron Soldiers stood silently nearby.

Off to one side...

Hidden beneath heavy tarps...

Pieces of another armored suit slowly came together.

His own.

He tightened another bolt and muttered through clenched teeth.

"The Stark family are thieves."

"They stole everything from mine."

His hatred had been forged long before he’d ever met Tony Stark.

Growing up in the frozen isolation of Siberia, his father had taught him two things.

Engineering.

And revenge.

Why were they trapped in poverty?

Why had Howard Stark prospered while Anton Vanko died forgotten?

Because Howard had stolen what belonged to the Vanko family.

That story had been repeated so many times it had become scripture.

Howard was dead now.

So his son would pay the debt.

Tony Stark would inherit the punishment.

Ivan tightened another screw.

"Your family will repay everything."

"With interest."

"You probably can’t accomplish that alone."

A woman’s voice drifted through the room.

Ivan spun instantly, a screwdriver already clenched like a knife.

Nothing.

No one.

For a moment he wondered whether exhaustion had finally caught up with him.

Then the voice returned.

"Relax."

"I’m not your enemy."

"If that’s true..."

Ivan slowly scanned the room.

"...you should show yourself."

Ripples spread through empty air.

A graceful figure stepped out as though emerging from invisible water.

Purple-clad.

Calm.

Expressionless.

"Sarah."

"Head of Security for the Umbrella Company."

Ivan snorted.

Instead of answering...

He charged her with the screwdriver raised.

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