Gen. Thaddeus’ Thunderbird’ Ross

Undisclosed location 

Ross was in charge of the Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project, with Ross’s goal being to recreate the Super Soldier Serum. However, the experiment led to an accident, transforming the lead scientist, Bruce Banner, into the Hulk. 

The motorcade of blacked-out SUVs carrying military officials neared a nondescript hangar in the middle of a deserted town. 

Ross had spent the trip over, the longest two-hour drive in his life, undergoing scrutinizing meetings via webcam. Saying he wasn’t angry and highly agitated would be a lie. 

Ross hopped from the middle vehicle after a squad of soldiers spread out guns at the ready. He looked around, a scowl growing across his face. This facility was a black site; technically, it didn’t exist, so it was sequestered inside a ‘supposed’ old mining town. 

“Doctors after you.” He motioned for the military doctors to go ahead as he followed suit. The scientists marched toward the door panel, two of them Cole would recognize. 

Dr. Abner Brody was old, nearing his seventies; he was a physicist and professor of Howard Stark. After retiring, he relocated to Peru and was visited by Stark, who needed his assistance in helping Jason Wilkes maintain his physical form after being exposed to Zero Matter. 

The other, a younger woman, Dr. Amara Perera, is a brilliant biophysicist born and raised on the island of Sri Lanka. Amara had developed a cure for the mutant gene that theoretically prevented Mutants from receiving their abilities but hadn’t dared to create it due to the political and sociological aftermath that would indeed occur if she did. 

Both had been tasked by the government or its industrial and military complex to remake Dr. Erskine’s serum to help combat the growing threat of enhanced. 

“Let’s go, soldiers.” said Thaddeus E. “Thunderbolt.” Ross moved through the installation, flanked by subordinates; a slow but steady growl of displeasure rumbled inside him. The underlings sent a look at each other as they hastily followed in the older man’s stride.

The lone man who stood out wore black and walked closer to the General. “Royal Navy?” He asked the British soldier who followed him down the hallway. 

“Yes, sir, spent a decade fighting for queen and country.” He answered back. 

Emil Blonsky is a former special-ops commander of the British Royal Marines who was loaned to SOCOM. In his efforts to apprehend Hulk, Blonsky was recruited by United States Army General Thaddeus Ross and, in the original timeline, was injected with an experimental variant of the Super Soldier Serum. The timeline had been altered with the muddying of two different forces.

Ross cut his head toward the man, not having observed him on the ride over as his mind was elsewhere. “Hmm. The accent is a bit off. Are you Russian-born? By your last name, I will say I’m right.” 

“Yugoslavia,” he corrected, tone polite and forthcoming, “Actually, sir, my parents fled after the Iron Curtain failed. I’m British through and through, sir.” 

The two-star General hummed at the admission. “I don’t think otherwise.” he acknowledged the man’s many achievements with a nod. 

“You know what we’re up against?” Ross asked, pushing the conversation into the reason they were here in the first place. 

“My command advised me you got a monster problem. I’m your guy, sir; give me your best man, and I’ll have it tagged and bagged.”

“The problem, soldier,” he came to a stop. “We don’t have the best men for this kind of job, at least none that I could bring over without bureaucrats and tons of paperwork exacerbating the problem.”

“Sir?” 

“We must even the playing field. You soldiers are our best and the few whose genetic makeup suits the project.” He said as he continued to follow the doctors. 

The soldiers stared at each other before turning back to see the armed soldiers staring at them. Emil noted them but assumed they were security of some kind. He smiled, looked at the back of Ross, and balled his hand. 

‘Even the playing field, you say? Well, sign me up, Chap.’ Emil said Inwardly. 

“Last sighting.” He barked. A female soldier skipped up, the others falling behind, and pulled a report from a Manila folder. 

The General’s frustration reached a boiling point as he snapped at his subordinate. “If I wanted to read, I would have joined a book club instead of the military. And I certainly wouldn’t need you or anyone else!” The words were sharp and laced with irritation, leaving the subordinate feeling small and insignificant in the presence of such an influential figure.

“Banner isn’t in South America,” he spat, disregarding the report. My daughter has been spotted near Harlem.” He reached out to the private nearest him, removed the SAT phone, and handed it over before the General had to speak. 

“As you say, sir! We suspect he entered the country through a migrant convoy.” 

“Southern fucking border, why don’t they just shut the damn thing down and build another great wall across? Not only do we have illegals, but we have powered monsters breaching our country’s borders.”

Everyone listened. His tirade ensued as he cursed the politicians and especially the imbecile of a governor. 

He came to a dead stop, causing the corporal to slam into his back, knocking her glasses off her face. The private reached down, grabbed them, and handed them to his senior before saluting and standing to the side at attention. 

Bruce had nearly been captured in South America, but they had underestimated the monster’s healing capabilities. The nerve gas they used should have worked, but they didn’t depend on his alter ego to be still capable of functioning. 

Ross handed the SAT back to the private. He had made some necessary calls and called in some favors. Whatever the outcome became, he knew his days as a general were numbered. At least he wouldn’t serve jail time or be dishonorably discharged. Too many politicians were in on the project, and his ouster would shine lights on people who wouldn’t want to be investigated. 

Cole Stephens 

Cole slammed back into his body, and he inhaled deeply, sucking down mouthfuls of air. Had he been holding his breath? He knew he wasn’t outside long, but how long was it? Cole’s soul was abnormal, so he could function as a Haunt and be corporeal outside his vessel. 

He blinked, clearing his vision. Kaecillus was the first thing he saw up, his eyes adjusting. The red lantern hovered above the ground in a meditative state. 

Kaecillus opened his eyes, nodding at his liege return before floating back to his feet. 

He began his report. “I’ve secured the area around us to the best of my abilities.” 

“Wards?” He asked, already feeling the restrictions in place. 

“Yes. I will be happy to further your learning in the arts,” he paused, “I sense sorcery on you.” 

“Ah. Yes. I use the Cytorak spell,” he admitted. He did it on the fly but recalled his displeasure in calling on the power of ‘gods.’ He debated whether those entities were gods; he had been in the minority and knew them as potent Otherworld entities. 

The former master nodded. “A potent spell. I assume you fared well?” 

The throbbing of his head made speaking improbable, so he took to nodding. I’m not sure if he said his head wouldn’t explode. 

Kaecillus took his silence as displeasure. “I apologize for my mishaps; I should have suspected an attack from the astral as much as any other connecting dimensions.”

Silence. 

“Sir, do you find me useless,” Kaecillus asked somberly.

Cole gave Kaecillus a thin smile, locking the former sorcerer in place with his steely gaze. He wanted to lash out but calm down almost immediately. He shook his head, answering the man, but the look written across the lantern’s face made it seem like that wasn’t enough. 

He had locked down his thoughts and mind against the professor, and little help did that do. He was sure the helmet was the cause of the continued breach, but he still needed a better way than wearing his version of the Magneto helmet. 

He opened his thoughts to the lantern. He didn’t find him useless but overkill. Who could stop a persistent lantern? Kaecillus could easily escape the confines of the planet, survive in the vacuum of space, and have access to thousands of years of historical knowledge and recently had access to technology not of this reality.

Kaecillus understood, but the man wanted to fight in Cole’s place. He would think over that option. He hated to have to remind the master of the mystical arts that he had a ring. Cole took out a pill that he had purchased from the shop and popped It into his mouth. 

“Sir, welcome back to the Armacham Technology Corporation,” Alfred announced.

“Good to be back. Status?”

“Sir, Replica Forces are on standby; systems are shielded and internalized.” The Replica Forces are cloned super soldiers designed by Armacham Technology Corporation under the auspices of Project Perseus.

“Are the psionic inhibitors still connected?” 

“No, sir. Replica Soldiers are fully enabled.” Alfred stops abruptly, and Cole understands that artificial intelligence wouldn’t speak about the system even if Cole demanded it—a failsafe in case he was compromised. 

The swarm project was a success. Now, what to do with the villain? He could press him into service; the man was an ingenious scientist in his own right. 

“The villain is still in a coma. Should he be awakened for further consideration?” 

Cole waved his hands weakly. “Let the doctor decide. His ability is helpful, but he isn’t longer unique with the replica soldiers. Cole soldiers were connected via hive mind. Hence, the doctor’s unique physiology was ideal. Their bodies weren’t necessarily immortal, but death wasn’t a thing as long as the hive remained. And that Queen would be stationed in ATC. It would be unique to see one of the experiments develop a power to transform. 

“The Hand should be thankful that their soldiers’ bodies were put to use.” Had he not had the system, he usually wouldn’t have dared use the Lazarus Pit to resurrect anyone; even with the safeguards, he wasn’t sure that the resurrected would be sane, hence the psionic inhibitors.

Cole nodded and rubbed his temples to massage the pressure begging to be unleashed. 

“Astrid Bloom has been placed inside of a Sarcophagus. Her body deterioration was greater than she suspected; a viable super soldier serum had to be administered to increase the probability of her recovery.” 

Viable? He wondered which one. He shrugged and stood; his legs gave way, but his trusted butler was near him before he tumbled back to the floor. 

“Which one?” He asked.