Nineteen seconds.
She only needed nineteen seconds to completely turn a vicious, scheming thug into a good man.
Was the human mind really this fragile?
Watching the little gangster lying on the floor as his sobs gradually subsided, Walter absentmindedly rubbed his gleaming bald head. He was seriously considering asking Ethan for a helmet later.
No wonder so many people had once feared mutants—feared them enough to create the Sentinel robots just to wipe them out.
Of course, there were other ways to create telepaths, but mutants were still the most active race of superpowered beings in modern society—unlike the Inhumans, who had been fading into obscurity.
Especially since some mutants could experience a second awakening of their powers during adolescence, greatly increasing the odds of producing telepaths.
"Walter?"
The voice pulled the bald scientist back to reality. He turned to Ethan. "What is it, Mr. Ethan?"
"Have a few people bring over the other test subjects. We need to run a few more trials." Ethan turned his head toward Emma mid-sentence and asked softly, "Ms. Frost, can you hold on a bit longer? We can always continue the 'purification' tomorrow."
He snapped his fingers twice, signaling to the lab technicians nearby. "Go get her some water and food. And bring in a sofa."
"This Queen is still holding up."
Emma took a deep breath, wiping away the sweat trickling down the back of her neck. Watching the researchers and Walter walk out, she added, "Though... a little rest wouldn't hurt."
Age caught up to everyone, and she wasn't exempt. Still, she refused to show weakness in front of her partners. Admitting to herself that she was getting old was one thing—letting others see it was another.
Ethan gave a small nod of understanding, then reentered the Hulkbuster armor. With ease, he picked up the dazed gangster and started toward the glass chamber. Inside, the mass of black symbiote goo silently observed them, its narrow eyes glinting.
"What's your name?" Ethan asked through the armor's helmet.
"Ronnie Byrne, sir."
The thug—Ronnie—hung his head low, looking utterly dejected. He was still tormented by guilt over the things he had done. Dear God, why had I ever done such hellish things?
Then he looked up at the towering Hulkbuster holding him, gratitude flashing in his eyes. Thank heaven for this man. He saved me. I must have been possessed by a demon before...
From now on, I'll redeem myself with good deeds, he vowed silently.
Ethan didn't press further. Turning a petty thug like Ronnie into a "good man" was merely an experiment—to test whether the symbiote could assist in creating super-soldiers.
After all, the symbiote had reawakened with a sense of goodness; it couldn't be contaminated by wicked minds again. The Venom sample left behind by Agent Flash Thompson was all they had—just a small fragment.
If they could further verify the process's stability using a few more gang members, then once the old Daredevil brought the monks from K'un-Lun to the Weapon X facility, Emma Frost wouldn't need to brainwash the hosts anymore. Those monks, who had spent decades in spiritual training, would hardly be corrupt souls.
"Come out. Let's see how he compares to before," Ethan said, opening the glass chamber and placing Ronnie inside.
The black liquid hesitated briefly, then surged out, wrapping around Ronnie's body. A few seconds later, a massive creature covered in solid black muscle stood upright, its jagged mouth splitting open into a grin at the Hulkbuster.
"He still has dark memories... but he's kind now. We're no longer enraged, but..."
Venom's long red tongue slid across its eyes as it scratched its head. Something about this felt off—a strange, artificial sensation, like the "unlicensed food products" Eddie used to complain about from back-alley workshops.
Honestly, it felt like it was attached to a living puppet.
"Hmm." Seeing that the symbiote was calm, Ethan quietly retracted the flamethrowers and sonic cannons on his forearms. If Venom had shown even the slightest hint of aggression, he would've fired without hesitation.
"I remember you said you needed to eat people before? That won't be happening again," came the muffled voice through the armor.
"Alright, release him. Rest for now. You'll assist the next batch of serum hosts soon."
At Ethan's command, Venom slowly peeled itself off its host, retreating back into the glass chamber and forming a quiet, pulsing mass—waiting for its next subject.
Ronnie stood in place, examining his body. The pain and swelling were gone; the symbiote had repaired everything.
"You all keep working on the soldiers. I'll take a look around," Ethan said to Emma and Pietro before turning to leave.
A worker pressed a large red button on the wall. A deep hum filled the air as the massive door in front of them began to rise. A gust of dust-laden air whooshed through, making the man cough violently.
"Cough, cough! We're here, Mr. Ethan."
Covering his mouth, he glanced at the towering gold-and-red mech beside him, then pressed a few more buttons. The lights inside the next chamber flickered on, revealing its interior.
In the center stood a massive white-plated plasma furnace, like a yawning black abyss—silent and oppressive.
Around it were rows of intricate control consoles, their buttons, switches, and screens densely packed. The worker moved toward them, fumbling with uncertainty.
"You can go. Tell the warehouse crew to bring in the door I retrieved," the Hulkbuster commanded. The worker nodded and ran off.
"Herbie, can you interface with the local computer system?" Ethan asked the floating spherical robot beside him. He'd noticed several external ports on the control panels and was confident that this little machine—designed by Reed Richards—could connect.
"Beep-beep."
The boxy-headed robot zipped toward the console, tilted sideways, and extended a cable from its body to link with the system.
Instantly, the room's panels lit up one after another. Streams of data scrolled across the displays, and the surface of the plasma furnace began to glow with a bright, shimmering blue light.
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