Chapter 51: What's Money For? World Conquest, Obviously!
Secretary Ross hadn't achieved a complete victory, but he'd certainly outmaneuvered S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers in the political arena.
Congressional hearings rarely produce immediate decisive outcomes. Thanks to Ross's skillful maneuvering, Congress had temporarily lifted restrictions on Ryan's experimental programs.
Ross wasted no time bringing several test volunteers to the military base laboratory.
"It's a shame Nick Fury wasn't there today," Ross chuckled while chomping on his signature cigar. "I would've loved to see that smug expression wiped off his face."
"Your test subjects have arrived: three federal prisoners and one disabled veteran. The rest is up to you."
Having completed his official business, Ross turned to leave when Ryan called him back.
"Come with me to the laboratory."
Ross's eyes lit up with anticipation. Whether the result was a super-soldier serum or life-extension formula, it represented enormous potential value.
They took the elevator down to the secure basement laboratory. Ryan entered and retrieved a rose-colored serum from the cryogenic storage unit.
"Did it work?" Ross asked urgently.
Ryan nodded with satisfaction. "This compound increases hematopoietic stem cell activity and resets metabolic processes. It's remarkably effective. According to supercomputer modeling, it can extend human lifespan by ten to twenty-five years minimum while treating various chronic diseases."
Ryan had synthesized this formula using three distinct genetic templates: the enhanced mouse serum, samples from Craig Hollis, and Celestial bone marrow extracts.
His research had revealed that the mouse possessed special enzymes that could theoretically extend human life significantly—potentially adding decades to someone like Peggy Carter's lifespan from the 1970s through 2008 and beyond.
However, Ryan didn't want to create something offering unlimited longevity. After extensive experimentation with different concentrations and combinations, he'd developed this carefully calibrated pink serum.
Ross grew excited, his political mind immediately calculating possibilities. "This stuff would be worth billions. If we charge a billion per treatment—"
A billion dollars to add decades to someone's life—wealthy elites would create a bidding war for access.
Ryan waved dismissively, uninterested in mere financial gain. "Why waste time making money? Haven't you considered something more meaningful?"
"Meaningful? What could be more meaningful than massive profit?" Ross looked genuinely confused.
In a capitalist society, monetary value determined everything. Appearance, background, ideology—none of it mattered if you had enough wealth.
Ryan shook his head. "You use this to win political allies and support for a presidential campaign. That way, you can reshape the world according to your vision—especially regarding S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers."
For powerful political figures, the promise of extended life held ultimate appeal. Rather than handle the complex negotiations personally, Ryan preferred letting Ross manage the political machinery.
If the life-extension serum proved effective, Ryan would become their personal deity.
Ross stood stunned for several moments, half-convinced and half-skeptical. "You're suggesting we work together to control this country—or even the world?"
Ross wasn't naive. Ryan's proposal clearly came with significant strings attached.
Given current circumstances, Ross understood that Ryan's primary enemies remained the Avengers. By controlling the nation's leadership through Ross, then leveraging America's global influence against the superhero community, Ryan could eliminate the Avengers without direct confrontation.
Ross was half-correct in his assessment. Ryan's ambitions extended far beyond mere revenge.
"What's wrong? Getting cold feet?" Ryan smiled with calculated charm.
Ross straightened with military confidence. "What do I have to fear? This is exactly what I've always wanted."
In that moment, a conspiracy against the entire world was finalized within the laboratory walls.
A biological scientist and a career military politician had just outlined a plan to seize global control.
The first priority involved confirming the serum's effectiveness.
Longevity research had never ceased in academic circles. Ryan handed the experimental data to Ross. Any qualified research organization could verify the authenticity of these results within days.
Ross departed hastily with the classified data while Ryan proceeded to meet the clinical volunteers.
Identifying the test subjects proved straightforward. The heavily tattooed individuals were obviously prisoners, while the man missing his left arm was clearly the disabled veteran.
Ryan reviewed their files page by page.
Among the three prisoners: one convicted of multiple sexual assaults, one gang member responsible for several homicides, and one white-collar criminal involved in massive embezzlement. None deserved sympathy.
The disabled veteran's injury hadn't occurred in combat—a fellow soldier had accidentally discharged his weapon during training exercises, severing the man's arm. Because military investigators determined partial fault lay with the victim, the Department of Veterans Affairs had denied long-term disability benefits. With a wife and young daughter to support, he'd volunteered for experimental procedures that would provide substantial compensation to his family.
Ryan signaled the guards to open the holding area and took a seat.
He addressed the three prisoners first. "Explain why you're participating in this experiment."
"What else would it be? We want out of prison, obviously."
"I don't like your attitude. Just tell me when I can leave," the second speaker—the gang member—revealed barely contained aggression.
Ryan looked toward the third prisoner.
On the surface, this man appeared ordinary, almost harmless.
Meeting Ryan's gaze, the embezzler stammered nervously, "I've been wrongfully convicted. I want to clear my name and return to my family as soon as possible."
Ryan stood and gestured toward the violent criminals. "You two, follow me."
Both men regarded Ryan with obvious contempt. The gang member clearly believed he could snap Ryan's neck with minimal effort.
Several armed guards escorted the prisoners to the laboratory and secured them to reinforced examination tables with titanium restraints.
Ryan approached the first volunteer—the gang member—with a bone marrow aspiration needle. The criminal glared with murderous intent. "Listen, kid, you better not hurt me or I'll break your neck and shove your head down a toilet."
Having already volunteered for clinical trials, Ryan had no patience for threats. He applied a medical gag and positioned the table so the subject lay face-down.
Beep.
He activated the surgical microscope, located the optimal injection site, and marked it with a sterile pen. Various monitoring devices were connected to track vital signs.
The bone marrow needle penetrated steadily into the subject's spine.
"MMMPH!!!"
The prisoner's muscles instantly contracted, blood vessels bulging as intense pain wracked his system.
Ryan remained clinically detached. He drove the needle home in one smooth motion, then injected the Celestial genetic material. Perhaps due to his aggressive technique, blood spurted as he withdrew the instrument.
Clang—clang—clang—
The subject's entire body convulsed violently, the examination table rattling against its moorings.
Ryan carefully observed data from the monitoring equipment, completely disregarding the subject's suffering. As expected, the readings spiked dramatically. Microscopic examination revealed energy-conducting cellular membranes beginning to form within the blood cells.
The Celestial genes were actually fusing with ordinary human DNA!
The Celestials probably never imagined that baseline humans could possess the specialized compounds found in Eternal bone marrow.
The subject had returned to normal baseline, though his eyes now gleamed with predatory intensity. His body visibly grew stronger and more symmetrical, as if preparing to devour anything within reach.
Ryan approached with another syringe and, without hesitation, plunged it into the subject's arm for additional sampling.
End of Chapter 51
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