There was no helping it—once you started using War Machines, you realized just how absurdly convenient they were. Their versatility was unmatched.
They could serve as airborne units, link to satellites, perform beyond-visual-range strikes, and even double as strategic missiles.
On the ground, their agility and anti-materiel loadouts meant even tanks weren't a real threat. And in low-altitude combat, helicopters stood no chance against something as fast and maneuverable as a War Machine.
Even though the world's governments weren't thrilled, they still scaled back fighter jet and tank development to redirect budgets toward purchasing and studying their own War Machines.
A weapon that redefined an entire era—its reputation was well earned.
"An army of one" wasn't a metaphor anymore.
As for researching this technology? Without Tony Stark lifting a finger, without Reed Richards stepping in, no one could make real progress. The most critical core was patented under Zod's name. Tony couldn't even build an Iron Man suit anymore—not unless he wanted to drag out an endless legal battle. And if he tried that… well, Zod would make him disappear without a trace. Maybe toss him into some barren corner of the Middle East to "train."
The massive prize of the no-rules tournament drew fighters from around the world. Of course, some weren't motivated by money—but Zod didn't care about those outliers.
Even mercenaries were welcome. Profession didn't matter.
Three months later, NYPD Commissioner George Stacy rubbed his temples. Lately, too many unfamiliar, suspicious individuals had appeared in New York. No one knew where these people came from or why they gathered here. And with everyone holding legitimate identification, the police couldn't touch them.
Zod had expected this. A no-rules combat event was bound to attract all sorts of freaks and monsters. And for many of them, the "no weapons" rule wasn't a real restriction anyway.
Amusingly enough, Zod even spotted a particularly chatty participant.
Wade Wilson—the future Deadpool. With a reward this big on the line, a mercenary like Wade wouldn't miss it. He had more than enough confidence in himself.
"This doubles as a good survey," Zod murmured. "Let's see how many superpowered individuals or dominant mutant gene types crawl out of the woodwork."
Marvel's Earth was packed with aliens—along with countless alien descendants.
Despite Earth being a backwater at the edge of the cosmos, the number of hidden extraterrestrials here was surprisingly high. Many aliens crashed on Earth by accident.
Take Mar-Vell, the Kree Empire's first Captain Marvel—he randomly popped out of a wormhole and landed on Earth for no reason at all.
The second or third Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers, had an even more tangled origin. Her mother was a Kree deserter who settled on Earth by chance and gave birth to Carol. Then Carol got into a plane crash, was taken back by the Kree, and forcibly modified…
Somehow the whole thing sounded needlessly complicated.
Among the aliens on Earth, most lived quietly, minding their own business. A smaller portion were destabilizing elements. The most notorious, of course, were the Skrulls—the ones behind future storylines like Secret Invasion. During that era, Nick Fury wasn't even on Earth; he was in space commanding operations while a Skrull impersonated him on the ground… and caused a disaster.
This was exactly why Zod avoided main-plot characters whenever possible—they were walking chaos magnets.
Villains were much simpler. At least you always knew why they acted like idiots, so they were easier to handle.
Aside from scouting Ultra-Bestial Soldier candidates, this tournament also served another purpose: gene collection. If any superpowered individuals showed up to chase the prize, that'd be like sheep walking into a tiger's den. Delivering exceptional samples to his doorstep.
"But since this universe doesn't seem to have mutants," Zod mused, "the only contestants worth collecting will be the mutation types—radiation, tech mutation, wormhole mutation, serum mutation, biochemical mutation… and whatever modified Inhumans the Kree left behind."
He had already dispatched Bestial Soldiers to track down street-level supers like Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, and the Purple Man. Their genetic structures were definitely unique—perfect additions to Ultra-Bestial research.
Finding one was a net gain.
Finding two would be like hitting the lottery several times over.
The no-rules tournament required a strict physical examination beforehand. No one objected—they assumed the organizers just wanted to avoid someone collapsing from an illness mid-fight.
But the tests were… extremely thorough.
Not only blood samples, but bone marrow, subcutaneous cells—far above normal requirements.
With the Black Queen handling all genetic analysis, Zod barely had to lift a finger. Normally, a project like this would take thousands of trials and hundreds of researchers—an enormous waste of time.
As he expected, plenty of "special individuals" surfaced in the no-rules matches. They had no idea they were top-tier research material in Zod's eyes—simply brawling for a reward he considered trivial.
Anyone who fell in the arena was immediately hauled off to the hospital…
Blade Industries' brand-new medical division.
They claimed that as long as you had a single breath left, they could save you.
And with the level of technology at Zod's disposal, that wasn't an empty boast.
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