Chapter 27: What Does It Matter If My Creations Are Dangerous?
Black Widow Natasha and several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents remained at the suburban factory, installing surveillance equipment and automatic alarm systems throughout the facility.
Meanwhile, Director Peggy Carter and Captain America Steve Rogers boarded a Quinjet and flew to a classified S.H.I.E.L.D. underground research facility in New Jersey—a bunker that had been operational since the days of the Strategic Scientific Reserve.
Security was military-grade: armed guards stationed every thirty feet, biometric scanners at every checkpoint, and automated defense turrets tracking their movement through reinforced corridors.
Thirty floors beneath the surface, the elevator doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, revealing several researchers in pristine white lab coats huddled around a holographic display table, analyzing complex genetic sequences.
Seeing Director Carter's arrival, they immediately ceased their discussion and stood at attention.
Carter approached the lead scientist, her heels clicking against the polished floor. "Any progress on Project Genesis?"
The lead researcher—a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses—shook his head grimly. "The genetic structure of this specimen defies conventional understanding, Director. We're not looking at standard double-helix DNA, but rather a complex multi-helix configuration. It's unlike anything in our databases—more sophisticated than the Terrigen crystals we've studied, more volatile than the Gamma radiation effects we documented with Banner."
Carter's jaw tightened. "If Ryan completed this enhancement process working alone in some underground lab, why can't an entire team of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest geneticists replicate it?"
Captain America approached a reinforced observation window, and what he saw behind the bulletproof glass nearly made his super-soldier heart skip a beat.
It was a massive rat—but calling it a rat was like calling the Hulk simply "large."
The creature's corpse was easily the size of a Great Dane, its jaw packed with rows of needle-sharp fangs that would make a shark envious. Crimson eyes stared sightlessly from its skull, while razor-sharp claws extended from paws that could probably crush a man's skull. Its thick, serpentine tail was coiled around its body like a python.
Even dead, the thing radiated menace that reminded Steve uncomfortably of the monstrosities he'd faced in HYDRA's secret labs during the war.
Behind him, the researchers continued their grim assessment.
"Director Carter, genetic engineering on this scale isn't just advanced science—it's approaching something that borders on cosmic manipulation. The complexity suggests whoever created this had access to knowledge far beyond current human understanding. This Ryan individual must possess intellect comparable to Reed Richards or Bruce Banner at their peak."
Carter's expression darkened. "That's not what I need to hear. I need to know if we can weaponize the genetic material from this specimen."
"Without understanding the fundamental principles behind its creation? Extremely dangerous, if not impossible."
Carter didn't want to demoralize her scientific team further. She sighed and dismissed them with a wave. "Continue your research. Report any breakthroughs immediately."
After the researchers filed out, Steve approached Carter, his voice heavy with concern. "Peggy, you witnessed firsthand what happened when the Red Skull tried to weaponize science beyond his understanding. Why are we walking down this same path?"
Carter gazed through the reinforced glass at the grotesque remains. "We didn't create this abomination, Steve. A biologist named Ryan engineered it in 1970. We simply excavated it from the ruins of his laboratory after a... containment breach."
Steve's brow furrowed. "Ryan? The same Ryan we've been pursuing? But he can't be more than twenty-five years old. How could he have been working in 1970?"
Carter chose not to elaborate on the temporal complexities surrounding Ryan's existence. Instead, she turned to face her old friend. "Ryan represents a threat level we've never encountered before, Steve. His potential for destruction makes the Winter Soldier program look like a children's science fair. If he decides to enhance himself with these same genetic modifications..." She left the implication hanging in the air.
The weight of decades showed in Carter's eyes. She was no longer the bright, determined SSR agent Steve had known and loved. She was now Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., carrying the burden of protecting a world that seemed to produce new existential threats daily.
Back in Hell's Kitchen, Ryan helped Frank stumble into their underground hideout.
Frank collapsed onto his cot, every muscle in his enhanced body screaming in protest. "Jesus, Ryan," he groaned, "were you in this kind of agony after your first enhancement?"
Ryan moved to their makeshift kitchen, pulling ingredients from their dwindling supplies. "Not even close. When I emerged from my enhancement chamber, I was ready to take on another annoying super-soldier. Right now, you couldn't take on a Chihuahua, let alone Captain America."
The fundamental differences in their enhancements were significant, though Ryan didn't elaborate. Frank had undergone human genetic enhancement, essentially becoming a perfected version of himself—similar to the process that created Captain America, but using Jessica Jones's unique genetic template as a catalyst.
Ryan's transformation had been far more radical. Rather than enhancing human DNA, he had systematically replaced portions of his genetic code with alien material—specifically, genetic sequences derived from Thanos himself. The cosmic energy required for such fundamental restructuring was vastly different from conventional super-soldier serums.
Ryan ladled steaming bone broth into a large bowl and set it beside Frank's cot. "Your cellular energy is severely depleted right now. This should help with the recovery process. And Frank?" He paused at the laboratory area. "Clean up after yourself when you're mobile again. That includes the bathroom."
Frank grimaced but nodded, too exhausted to argue.
Ryan prepared his own meal—simple rice and braised pork—leaving the cleanup duties to his recovering partner. After eating, he collected a fresh blood sample from Frank and moved to his analysis station.
Running the sample through his improvised but sophisticated testing equipment, Ryan compared the results against Wilson Fisk's enhancement data. The genetic markers were promising.
"Frank," he called over, "your enhancement was successful. Full recovery should take approximately seventy-two hours. Your cellular activity is now operating at roughly three times baseline human levels. Congratulations—you're officially superhuman."
Frank paused mid-slurp of his broth, a large marrow bone still in his grip. "Can you translate that into terms a Marine can understand?"
Ryan stored Frank's blood sample in their improvised cryogenic unit. "It means your physical capabilities now exceed peak human performance in every measurable category. Think Captain America-level enhancement."
Frank's eyes lit up with understanding.
"You could go toe-to-toe with Rogers himself," Ryan continued. "Of course, Cap's got that vibranium shield, which makes him nearly impossible to take down in a straight fight. But in terms of raw physical ability? You're equals now."
The comparison thrilled Frank. Captain America was a living legend—the idea that he could match the First Avenger in combat was intoxicating.
"That's incredible!" Frank waved the bone enthusiastically, then his expression grew more serious. "Hey, Ryan, what's your relationship status with Wilson Fisk these days?"
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "You already know the answer to that. Just ask what you really want to ask."
Frank had the decency to look embarrassed. "I need weapons. Military-grade hardware—fully automatic, heavy ordnance if possible."
Ryan's expression shifted to something approaching disbelief.
Unable to bear the scrutiny, Frank snapped, "Just tell me if you'll help or not. Why are you staring at me like I grew a second head?"
Ryan closed the sample refrigerator and turned to face Frank directly. "You're now a superhuman with capabilities that exceed ninety-nine percent of Earth's population, and you're still thinking like a regular grunt who needs bigger guns to solve his problems. What exactly was the point of your enhancement?"
Frank was quiet for a long moment, processing the implications. Finally, he shrugged. "Look, maybe I am superhuman now, but heavy weapons are still the most efficient way to deal with regular people and government agents. Besides," he added with dark humor, "at least with guns I won't get blood on my clothes when I'm dispensing justice."
For the next three days, Frank remained in the basement, allowing his transformed physiology to fully stabilize. During this recovery period, he filled Ryan in on everything that had transpired during his investigation—including his new alliance with David Lieberman, the former NSA analyst who possessed crucial intelligence about the conspiracy that had destroyed Frank's family.
The pieces were falling into place for Frank's war against those who had wronged him. Soon, he would have both superhuman abilities and the resources needed to bring his particular brand of justice to those who thought themselves untouchable.
End of Chapter 27
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