POOF.
A cloud of white smoke erupted in the middle of the lab. When it cleared, a Ducati motorcycle was sitting on the workbench.
Luther pressed the button on the tiny capsule again. POOF. The bike vanished, replaced by a pill-sized object in his palm.
"It works," Luther whispered, tossing the capsule in the air and catching it. "Smooth as silk."
He had been worried that the physics of the Marvel Universe would reject the Hoi-Poi technology. Different dimensions have different laws of reality, after all. But apparently, the Marvel Universe had a very high tolerance for nonsense.
"I guess in a world where Hank Pym can shrink a tank into a keychain and Reed Richards can open portals to the Negative Zone, a spatial compression capsule is basically just a neat party trick," Luther mused.
This was huge.
If the Capsule tech worked, it meant the barrier between the universes was permeable.
Luther's mind immediately went to the next prize: Androids.
Specifically, Dr. Gero's "Infinite Energy" models. The cyborgs like 17 and 18 possessed internal reactors that generated limitless stamina and power capable of cracking a planet. If Luther could get his hands on those schematics—or better yet, bring Gero's lab back in a capsule—he could upgrade his Super Soldier program from "Captain America level" to "Walking Nuke level."
"One thing at a time," Luther told himself, pocketing the capsule.
He looked at the other samples on his desk. The Senzu Beans. The Ultra Divine Water.
He was going to do what Goku never did: Industrialize.
It always annoyed him how the Z-Fighters treated Senzu Beans like a scarce resource. They had a miracle crop that healed all wounds and restored stamina instantly, and they let a cat grow them in a pot three at a time?
"Inefficient," Luther scoffed. "I'm going to hydroponically farm these things. I'll extract the active enzyme, synthesize it, and sell 'Instant Health' in an EpiPen."
As for the Ultra Divine Water? If he could purify it further, he could sell a "Premium" version of his Super Soldier serum. One that didn't just buff you, but evolved you.
Knock, knock.
The heavy security door hissed open. Michelle walked in, holding a tablet and looking like she had a migraine.
She paused at the decontamination airlock, waiting for the chemical mist to spray her down. She was used to Luther's paranoia by now.
"Boss," Michelle said, stepping into the lab. "We have a situation. A social one."
Luther didn't look up from his microscope. "Is the stock down?"
"No, the stock is up. That's the problem. Everyone wants Compound One, and... well, the world is starting to crack a little."
She pulled up a news feed on the main monitor.
It was chaos.
CNN:"The End of Sports? NFL Players Association threatens strike over 'Super Soldier' exclusion."
FOX:"The New Aristocracy: Are the rich buying their way to genetic superiority?"
MSNBC:"Protests outside Emperor Tower enter Day 4. Demands for 'Universal Access' grow."
Luther spun his chair around, watching the footage.
Outside his very building, thousands of people were gathered. They held signs: EVOLUTION IS A RIGHT, NOT JUST FOR BILLIONAIRES, and GOD DIDN'T CHARGE FOR MUSCLES.
"They're angry," Michelle explained. "The debate is getting ugly. People are realizing that if the rich can buy double strength, double reaction time, and anti-aging... the gap between the haves and the have-nots isn't just financial anymore. It's biological."
"They're not wrong," Luther said calmly. "It's a valid concern. If I sell this to the top 1%, they become a different species. The rest of humanity becomes obsolete."
Michelle looked at him, surprised by his empathy. "So... what do we do? The Board—well, if we had a Board—would suggest a lottery system. Or maybe a donation program?"
"Donation?" Luther laughed. "Michelle, please. I'm a businessman, not Santa Claus."
He stood up and walked to the window, looking down at the ants protesting fifty stories below.
"The market is telling us something," Luther said. "The rich have bought the product. That market is saturating. Once a billionaire buys the serum, he doesn't need another one. It's a one-time purchase."
He turned back to her with a shark-like grin.
"But the poor? The middle class? That's a volume market. There are millions of them."
"But they can't afford ten million dollars," Michelle pointed out.
"Of course not," Luther said. "That's why we're going to help them."
He walked over to the whiteboard and uncapped a marker.
THE EMPEROR ENHANCEMENT INITIATIVE.
"We introduce a loan," Luther announced.
Michelle blinked. "A loan?"
"Like a car loan. Like a mortgage. But for your DNA."
Luther began sketching the structure.
"We lower the price for the mass market version. Let's say... $500,000. Still expensive, but attainable. We offer a 30-year financing plan. Low down payment. Reasonable interest rates... at first."
"You want to put people in debt for half their lives... for muscles?"
"People put themselves in debt for college degrees they don't use," Luther countered. "They go into debt for a Mercedes to impress their neighbors. This is an investment in themselves. Who wouldn't want to be stronger, healthier, and younger? It pays for itself in medical savings alone!"
He tapped the board.
"We open the Emperor Financial Services branch. We lend them the money to buy our product. We make the profit on the sale, and then we make profit on the interest for the next three decades."
Michelle stared at him. It was predatory. It was cynical. It was pure, unadulterated capitalism.
"And to sweeten the deal," Luther added, "if they set up direct deposit with our bank, we give them a 20% discount on the principal. We lock them into our ecosystem."
"The protesters..." Michelle murmured. "They'll see this as..."
"They'll see it as an opportunity," Luther interrupted. "We're giving them what they want. Access. Equality. We're leveling the playing field. We're just... charging an admission fee."
He looked back out the window.
"Think about it, Michelle. This isn't just business. It's charity."
"Charity?" she asked, incredulous.
"I'm preparing them," Luther said, his voice dropping low. "The world is getting dangerous. Aliens. Gods. Monsters. When the Chitauri invasion fleet shows up over New York... these people are going to need to be stronger. They're going to need to run faster, hit harder, and survive longer."
He smiled, a look of mock-beatitude on his face.
"I'm saving the human race, one high-interest loan at a time. It's boundless merit, really. If karma exists, I'm practically a saint."
Michelle looked at the plan. She looked at Luther. Then she sighed and tapped her tablet.
"I'll have the legal team draft the contracts."
"Good girl," Luther said. "Now, let's go make some history."
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