It wasn't just Banner who was thinking about heading into the city to help—Ross, watching his forces retreat step by step and the casualty numbers climb to terrifying levels, was now seriously considering turning Blonsky into a second Hulk.
If the procedure succeeded and they gained another powerhouse like the Hulk under their command, it could be used to attack or draw Decepticon firepower. It would also reignite top-level interest in the project. After all, the Hulk's creation could still be brushed off as a fluke, but Blonsky would be a true, deliberate product of the experiment.
And if it failed? Just another entry in a long list of failures.
The higher-ups wouldn't care. They never did. All they cared about was the cost, and how close they were to success.
Understanding this, Ross no longer hesitated. He turned to his assistant and said, "Have them prep the serum for Blonsky. He's getting the Hulk's blood."
"This soon, sir?"
But as Ross glared at him, the assistant quickly nodded. "Y-yes, sir!"
Still uneasy, Ross left the command center and headed to the medical research facility.
When he arrived, Blonsky was already in a hospital gown, lying on the medical bed with a face full of excitement.
"Seen the news?"
"Yes, sir," Blonsky said eagerly. "I can't wait to tear those aliens apart."
"Good," Ross said, pleased with Blonsky's hatred toward the Transformers. "Your mission is simple: show them that we can kill them too—that Earth's fate is ours to decide."
"Exactly," Blonsky replied with double meaning, "Our fate is in our own hands."
Ross easily picked up on the subtext. But uncertain how things would turn out, he didn't waste words.
He turned to the scientists. "Begin," and left the lab for the adjacent secure room.
Once Ross left, the lab coat-clad researchers activated their machines. A vial of green serum was inserted into the system and injected into Blonsky's artery.
As the serum coursed through him, Blonsky began trembling violently. Then a concentrated gamma-ray beam shone down from above, blasting directly into his eyes.
In an instant, his proportionate body began inflating like a balloon—growing larger and more muscular by the second.
With every passing moment under the gamma radiation, Blonsky's body mass surged as if absorbing infinite nutrients, the medical bed creaking and groaning under the weight.
Within seconds, a towering, 2.5-meter-tall behemoth with jagged bone protrusions on his back and elbows and a monstrous face stood before them.
"Hahaha! I can feel it—limitless power!"
Blonsky stood up, clenching his massive fists. Staring at his arms, now thickened several times over, he felt as though he had broken free of divine limitations on humanity. Every cell in his body surged with power—as if he had ascended into godhood.
"What's that?!"
Hearing someone shout, everyone turned toward the lab's television screen.
On it, a green titan soared across a ten-meter gap in a single bound, landing atop a seven- or eight-meter Decepticon.
He grabbed its metallic head and twisted sharply—crack—ripping it off clean.
Then, holding the severed metal skull, he hurled it like a fastball at another Decepticon several dozen meters away.
BOOM! A massive crash. The flying metal head struck its target dead-on, both skulls imploding and spraying oily fluids like black rain across the ground.
Everyone watching the screen erupted in wild, stunned cheers.
Blonsky, who moments ago had felt godlike, now scowled in irritation. With a snort, he smashed through the lab's doors and stormed out of the base, charging toward Manhattan.
After running a kilometer or two and getting used to his new strength, he squatted low, then launched himself into the air like a cannonball.
One leap carried him nearly a kilometer. He landed with a thunderous crash on the roof of a five-story building, then sprang again without hesitation.
Back at the base, when Ross saw the footage being relayed—including the half-collapsed rooftop—he cursed furiously.
A creeping sense of unease settled in his chest. Could William have been right? That enhancing Blonsky's body had also fully unleashed the darkness within his soul?
If so, then what about the future? Would the same happen with other soldiers?
Uncontrollable, disobedient super-soldiers were the opposite of what top brass considered an ideal weapon.
Still, if Blonsky burned out his rage during this battle and regained some reason afterward, Ross could live with that.
After all, even regular people could be prone to violent impulses.
And from Ross's military perspective, Blonsky's love of battle was far preferable to the Hulk's perpetual, uncontrollable rage.
"Deploy drones and ground teams. From this moment on, I want eyes on Blonsky 24/7."
"Yes, sir."
Soon, battlefield survivors transmitted footage of Blonsky's appearance back to the command center.
The moment Ross saw Blonsky showing up near Hulk, he shouted in fury, "That bastard! What the hell does he want with Hulk now?!"
This was not the time to be going after the Hulk.
Fortunately, thanks to William's intervention, the Blonsky of this timeline hadn't yet reached an irreconcilable grudge with Hulk.
After stomping a Decepticon's head into the ground, Blonsky spotted Hulk warily watching him from nearby. Feeling smug, he picked up the mangled head and taunted, "Once I finish off these scraps, I'm coming for you."
Hearing that, Hulk grabbed a nearby car and hurled it at him.
Blonsky, his rage now triggered, was just about to react—when he realized the car wasn't aimed at him.
Following the flying car with his eyes, he saw it smash into a Decepticon twenty meters behind him, sending it flying.
He turned back just in time to see Hulk wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then sneering at him.
In that instant, Blonsky understood the message: Hulk's already lost count of how many he's killed.
"Perfect," Blonsky's vicious grin twisted even further. "I'll show you I'm the strongest."
Unlike Hulk, who turned and left, Blonsky—still retaining most of his intellect—walked over to a fallen Decepticon, picked up a flail-like weapon, and charged toward the next explosion.
The entire sequence was soon broadcast globally by a journalist risking his life to film the chaos.
And somewhere, a one-eyed, dark-skinned man watched the footage of Blonsky and Hulk smashing Decepticons like they were playing a game—and a once half-formed idea in his mind suddenly took clear shape.
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