But even so, it was enough. With the Black Queen's current capabilities, even Ultron would be crushed the moment he tried to surface—digitally erased before he could finish a single boot sequence.
"Calculations complete…"
Having the Black Queen around made everything ridiculously convenient. Zod had barely finished a few cans of soda before she'd already generated several possible formulas for Ultra-Bestial Soldiers.
"Only ten viable formulas worldwide?"
Zod frowned. He knew some species were too rare or too difficult to collect samples from, but only ten possible Ultra-Bestial transformations on an entire planet—including Blonsky? That was… disappointing.
"So we still need Hulk-type and Thing-type mutational templates after all."
He paused. Strictly speaking, Peter Parker could also count as a form of Bestial Soldier—except his spider genes were subtly embedded into his DNA, instead of being restructured into a dominant, switch-activated form like Zod's. Peter couldn't transform; he simply was what he was.
Which meant his genetic structure didn't help the Ultra-Bestial calculations at all. The Black Queen had already included every possible spider gene in her simulations.
Still—Ultra-Bestial Soldiers built from the Blonsky template were tough enough to brawl with a baseline Hulk. Even standard Bestial Soldiers could go toe-to-toe with a tank.
But none of them were strong enough yet to take on a modern human army. They needed to stay hidden.
At least until they could strike the world like Kronos once did.Not that Zod cared about conquering Earth. His sights were set on the cosmos.
That was why he studied Bestial Soldiers and War Machines—to carve out territory among the stars. Competing with billions of Earthlings who couldn't leave their own star system? That was beneath him.
Back when he'd lived as a Kryptonian in his past life, his research facilities alone had been measured on a planetary scale.
Suddenly, a message rippled through the global underworld—
A mysterious, high-status figure would be hosting an unrestricted underground fighting tournament in New York. He wanted to select powerful fighters, and rumor had it the champion—or anyone who caught his eye—would receive an astonishing reward.
"Unrestricted combat" was just the sanitized name for illegal death matches. No weapons allowed, but everything else went. Only one fighter walked off the stage alive.
Underground fights had once been popular, but they declined fast. Official leagues had strict rules, international broadcasts, lower fatality rates, and far higher earnings. With so many fans watching legitimate matches, black-market fights couldn't compete.
Fewer viewers meant smaller payouts.
And even when the money was good, the risk of permanent injury or death was so high that most fighters avoided them. One misstep, and your career—and maybe your life—was over.
No one was getting rich off a single fight. Why gamble your entire future on one bloody payday?
So only the desperate took that path. Professional fighters had nutritionists, trainers, PR teams, managers—support systems that let them focus only on fighting.
Underground fighters? Most had nothing except their own bodies.
There was no comparison. How could black-market fighters measure up to trained professionals?
Most people went to those fights simply for bloodshed. Only those with nowhere left to turn became black-market fighters.
But there were always exceptions. Interest dictated everything. The only reason illegal fights lacked competitors was because the rewards weren't high enough.
Offer a big enough prize, and even pros would turn dark. Maybe not all of them—but enough.
Just like this time.
After obtaining the new Ultra-Bestial formulas, Zod needed ideal test subjects. And nothing produced stronger candidates than fighters who survived real life-or-death battles. So he approached the King of New York's underworld: Wilson Fisk.
Fisk could hardly believe Zod sought him out. After all, Zod was now a global icon—an untouchable super-genius. Even though the U.S. was unhappy about him selling War Machines, they dared not push too hard. Driving Zod away would be a geopolitical disaster.
As for secretly arresting him to force his cooperation…The moment anyone tried that, half the major corporations would riot. If the government could seize him, what stopped them from seizing any corporate asset they desired?
That line could not be crossed. Anyone who crossed it would be destroyed.
Not to mention, several very powerful families and unnamed conglomerates in America had already set their sights on Zod—plotting to send daughters or mistresses to approach him.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say Zod could erase Fisk's empire with a single sentence. The crime lord who had tormented Spider-Man and Daredevil for years was, in Zod's eyes, someone who could be swept aside on a whim.
But Fisk was useful. So Zod didn't sweep him aside.
"Send the announcement worldwide," Zod instructed. "Anyone with the strength to fight must hear about this tournament. Whether they choose to participate doesn't matter. What matters is that they know it exists. The champion will receive one hundred War Machines."
Fisk nearly choked.
One hundred?
He instinctively wanted to sign up. With his strength, winning would be effortless—unless some Master of Mimicry-type freak crawled out of the shadows, he feared no ordinary fighter. He trained by fighting ten professional boxers at once every day, sending all of them to the hospital afterward.
One hundred War Machines was… a small army.
The U.S. military itself only had that many. They'd recently ordered more after War Machines appeared in the Middle East—used by terrorists to block America's "peacekeeping operations."
Although the U.S. wanted to find excuses to cover it up, they eventually let it go. Even Stark Industries wasn't clean. Arms dealers only cared about profit. All of them deserved the gallows.
Meanwhile, Russia had unveiled its own War Machines—painted red, fitted with heavy armor and brutal weapons. They looked like walking fortresses. No one knew whether they could still fly.
China had placed its own massive order as well.
Once America learned both Russia and China had each ordered over a hundred units—and that several wealthy nations were submitting orders too—they had no choice but to increase theirs.
Zod watched the world shift, already looking past Earth… toward the stars.
/-\
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