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The Cyberware clinical trials were a resounding success. The retired ranger who had undergone the first full-body skeletal reinforcement could now run, jump, and sprint across the testing grounds with the agility of a man half his age.
For him, it was nothing short of a miracle. His gratitude was so overwhelming he actually tried to set Kael up with his daughter. However, after one look at the girl's photo, Kael shoved the folder back with a deadpan expression.
Repaying a life-saving surgery with a blind date like that? You've got a death wish, choom.
This cost-effective, military-grade Chrome was a siren song for the Pentagon. After Kael submitted the performance data, Commissioner Smith requested an emergency briefing. The military's math was simple: the disability rate in active war zones was skyrocketing. Training an elite operator cost millions; fixing one for fifty thousand Dolars—the price of two bags of high-end industrial screws on the front lines—was the bargain of the century. Smith even suggested Kael raise the price; if the contract wasn't inflated, how were the commissioners supposed to skim their "consultation fees"?
Per Tony's request, Kael throttled the neural-link speeds to "Civilian Grade" for the public sector, keeping the truly lethal response times for his private projects. Kael himself had no interest in babysitting military brass; he left the logistics to Pepper and Natasha while he spent his nights "researching" with Tony and a rotating cast of Victoria's Secret models.
By the time Kael woke up the next morning, the ink on the DOD contract was already dry. The rift between Stark Industries and the military, torn open by the closure of the Weapons Division, was being mended with high-tensile carbon fiber and neural processors. Stock prices stabilized, and the media shifted from calling Tony a "lunatic" to a "visionary philanthropist."
Capital might rule America, but the military-industrial complex is the hand that holds the leash. Cooperating for mutual benefit was the ultimate Calculating Survivor move. Now, if anyone tried to zero Kael, they'd have to go through Tony Stark and the U.S. Army.
Natasha entered the presidential suite, efficiently clearing out the lingering models with a cold professionalism she had clearly picked up from Pepper. Kael, now dressed, looked significantly more like a "Corporate Director" and less like a "Street Merc."
"Boss, General Ross needs you. Immediately."
"Thaddeus 'Thunderbolt' Ross?" Kael asked, sipping his coffee. "The man with the sour face and the beautiful daughter?"
"The same," Natasha replied, handing him a news brief.
MILITARY LOCKDOWN AT CULVER UNIVERSITY... GREEN MONSTER SPOTTED ON CAMPUS.
Kael scanned the headline. The Hulk arc was accelerating. "What does this have to do with me? Ross played with gamma rays and got burned. Now he wants me to provide the aloe vera?"
"He has wounded men, Kael. Dozens of them. And he's desperate."
Kael tossed the paper aside. "Fine. Prepare the car. Let's go see how the other half lives."
The military hospital was a zone of controlled chaos. Ross's attempt to bag Bruce Banner had been a tactical disaster. He'd turned a university campus into a war zone and had nothing to show for it but a mounting casualty list and a PR nightmare.
When Kael's car pulled up, General Ross was waiting on the steps. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by a grim, proactive urgency.
"You've stirred up a real hornets' nest, General," Kael said, shaking the old man's hand.
"I don't need a lecture from a playboy, Wayne. I need your tech. My boys are broken. Elites shouldn't spend the rest of their lives in a wheelchair because of a freak accident."
Kael followed Ross into the trauma ward, Natasha trailing like a silent shadow. Ross introduced the attending surgeon, who handed Kael a tablet containing a diagnostic report.
"Full-body comminuted fractures? Multiple spinal displacements? Did he get run over by a tank?" Kael whistled as he looked at the file for Emil Blonsky. "The fact that this 'Blonsky' is still drawing breath is a miracle."
Blonsky was a mess of shattered bone and ruptured tissue. Ordinary humans were like potato chips when the Hulk lost his temper.
"These men aren't on the approved cooperation list, General," Kael noted. "The contract is specific."
"Consider this a personal favor," Ross growled.
Kael leaned in, putting a friendly arm around the General. "Personal, huh? Does Betty have any sisters you forgot to mention?"
"Watch your tone, son," Ross snapped, though he didn't pull away. He knew Kael held the cards.
"Here's the deal, General," Kael said, his voice dropping to a clinical hum. "Blonsky is too far gone for standard prosthetics. Ordinary Chrome won't take. I'll take him off your hands. Arrange his 'retirement' and send him to Stark Industries' Security Department. I'll fix him, and I'll look after him."
Kael's Kiroshi Optics flickered as he assessed the situation. He wanted Blonsky. If the man could survive the Hulk, he could survive the neural load of a Titan-link.
"And the other soldiers?" Ross asked.
"I'll make an exception. Fifty slots, outside the quota. You keep the slots; you decide who gets the Chrome."
Ross's eyes glinted with greed. Fifty slots of top-tier bionics was a massive political capital. "Deal."
When Emil Blonsky woke up, he was strapped into a high-tech cradle in Kael's private lab. The pain was an ocean, threatening to drown him with every twitch of his eyes.
"Give him a shot of Forticon," Kael commanded a nearby researcher.
As the synthetic painkiller kicked in, Blonsky's vision cleared. He stared at the sterile white ceiling and the humming machines. "Where... who are you?"
Kael dropped two shards onto the bedside table. "This is your honorable discharge and your new employment contract with Stark Industries."
"What?! I didn't agree to—" Blonsky surged forward, but his shattered spine wouldn't obey. He slumped back, gasping.
"You're the new Head of Security. Five hundred thousand a year, a luxury suite, and a company car. But most importantly," Kael leaned over him, "I'm the only man in this world who can make you walk again."
Blonsky stared at him, the warrior's fire in his eyes flickering. "...When is payday?"
"The first of the month."
"Do it," Blonsky rasped.
Kael smiled. "Today, you become something more than human, Emil."
Kael flipped the experimental bed, exposing Blonsky's pulverized back. As the general anesthetic took hold, Kael began the procedure.
He didn't just mend the bone; he replaced the entire lumbar and thoracic structure with a Cybernetic Spine—a simplified version of the Sandevistan housing.
When Blonsky awoke the second time, the pain was gone. In its place was a strange, cold humming. He sat up, his movements fluid and unnaturally sharp. He touched the back of his neck, feeling the cold, integrated metal ports.
"Don't be nervous, Emil," Kael said, monitoring the data. "That's your new spine. It doesn't just hold you up; it increases your reaction speed by twenty percent. Think of it as an upgrade."
Blonsky's adaptability was staggering. His rejection rate was near zero—even lower than Adam Smasher's initial specs.
"I feel... better than before," Blonsky whispered, standing up and testing his weight. He looked at Kael with a new sense of reverence.
"Put some clothes on. You're on the clock," Kael said, tossing him a lab coat. "Natalie will handle your onboarding. Welcome to the crew."
Outside the lab, Natasha watched Blonsky walk out on his own two feet. Her eyes narrowed in genuine shock. She'd seen the medical reports; the man should have been a vegetable. Kael Wayne wasn't just building toys—he was building an army.
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