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On the operating table, Aleksei clenched his teeth as the serum burned its way through his veins. It felt like fire under his skin, a torment that gnawed at his insides.
Dr. Connors leaned over, recording every reaction.
"Necrotic tissue is receding. Fangs haven't fully dissolved. What about the hunger?"
Aleksei's voice came out low and guttural, his eyes feral.
"Not good, Doc… it's worse. I'm starving."
The hunger slammed against his nerves like a beast in chains. His stomach convulsed violently. His massive body shook, straining against the enchanted restraints.
Steel reinforced with Osborn's magnetic fields and bone-binding runes held him down, but the sound of his bones grinding against them was terrifying.
"Trial serum 1 – failure. Move to a high-energy solution. Measure absorption rates!"
---
Hours bled into days. Test after test, clone after clone. Osborn's resources meant Nolan never lacked test subjects; genetic banks allowed for clones of every variant, every power profile.
Aleksei wasn't just a patient he was being tested for loyalty. If he broke, if hunger made him betray them once, he could never be trusted again.
But so far, Aleksei endured.
Then came Serum 1022.
Connor's voice trembled with excitement:
"Partial success! Necrosis reversing. Fangs receding. Hunger suppressed. Viral load collapsing."
But the scans showed something else. A foreign element remained in Aleksei's cells, binding itself to his genome. His skin flushed sickly purple, patches of chemical burns spreading across his frame. He looked less like a man and more like a chemical monster.
Nolan's eyes narrowed at the data. The ingredient that made the difference wasn't new chemistry it was Death Spores.
He remembered them well. Baron Zemo had once injected himself with them, threatening that if he died, the spores in his bloodstream would spread across the planet, annihilating humanity. Nolan had consumed them himself once, learning how unique they were.
And now, those same spores interacted with the zombie virus, destabilizing it.
"Interesting. So even poison meant to kill worlds can become a cure…"
He set the report down. "Base the next generation of trials on 1022. Continue refinement."
---
Through AI channels, he contacted E.L.L.
"How's containment?"
"All major outbreaks in North America have been corralled," the AI replied crisply. "Large camps established to isolate infected populations. South America is slower the jungle terrain complicates sweeps, but containment zones are in place. Those who fled by sea are being tracked by Stark's satellites. Progress is steady."
"Good. Notify Tony. For baseline humans, the serum is almost ready."
---
Meanwhile, Tony Stark rubbed his temples. The past week had been hell: Congressmen calling every hour, demanding deadlines, demanding priority access to a cure, demanding explanations.
They even questioned whether Nolan's absence wasn't he supposed to be Earth's guardian? Why wasn't he on the front lines?
Tony had kept the wolves at bay, but barely. He had noticed something else too: Osborn Industries had been quietly stepping back from Washington.
Familiar faces were disappearing, replaced by strangers whose loyalty he couldn't track. And from Ant-Man, he'd learned of Kang. Of the Time Travel Machine.
He's building something bigger, Tony realized. Nolan's already setting up beyond Earth. Maybe even beyond this universe.
When the Illuminati reached out, it wasn't Nolan who answered. It was Strange. The Sorcerer Supreme's role, Strange reminded them, was to protect Earth not humanity.
If the plague had grown beyond saving, the Masters of the Mystic Arts would have simply preserved a remnant, then hurled the rest of the zombies into the sun.
Tony sighed. "Kids' games to him. For Nolan, this was never about saving Earth. It's about outgrowing it."
FRIDAY's voice broke his thoughts.
"Mr. Stark, message from E.L.L.: serum for baseline humans is nearly ready. You're authorized to announce progress."
"Finally," Tony muttered, straightening. "Alright. Call the press."
---
At the press conference, he faced a storm.
"Zombies are people too! Is corralling them into camps a violation of human rights?" one reporter shouted.
Tony nearly lost it. Send that guy to live in a camp for a week, see if he still feels sorry. Rumors swirled of a "Zombie Rights Association." Even "Zombie Enthusiasts."
This world's gone insane, Tony thought bitterly. Maybe Nolan had the right idea.
He forced a smile. "The details will be released jointly by Stark Industries and Osborn Corporation. Serum trials are in advanced stages—"
Another voice cut him off, raw with grief and fury.
"Why should we trust you? My brother was infected. He was killed! Shouldn't you be held accountable for failing to protect him?"
Tony's eyes narrowed, locking on the speaker: a young man in a racing suit. His fists shook, and grief radiated off him like heat.
The room went silent.
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