Late at night, inside the Life Foundation's secret laboratory…
The symbiote samples that the special operations team had brought back from the crashed spaceship just days ago were all stored here.
"Damn it! There were supposed to be four symbiote samples, but now only two remain. Where did the other two go?"
"Dr. Drake, one of the black symbiotes possessed a human and killed several of our soldiers."
"Our people are searching," the aide continued. "The other—silver-gray—symbiote is currently missing. There's no trace of it."
"A bunch of useless trash!" Drake snarled. "Launch a thorough search immediately. Symbiotes can't survive long without a host—it can't have gone far."
"As for the man who was successfully possessed… we must find him—even if we have to dig three feet into the ground."
Researchers had conducted countless experiments aboard the spacecraft, and none of the organisms they'd parasitized had survived more than ten minutes.
But that man had merged perfectly with the symbiote—and unleashed a host of incredible abilities.
He was, without question, the only successful hybrid so far—and crucially, he was still human. They absolutely had to capture him.
Perhaps he held the key to humanity's next evolutionary leap.
Carlton Drake stared madly at the symbiote writhing inside its glass containment unit. He had long raged against the frailty of the human body.
Ever since he'd begun his research in life sciences, he'd sought ways to accelerate human evolution into a more advanced life form.
While other scientists chased physical enhancement through drugs, Drake turned his focus to extraterrestrial life.
He'd discovered the symbiotes during an unplanned deep-space exploration.
From that moment on, he'd dedicated himself to studying them—and vowed to bring them back to Earth.
That was how the Life Foundation had been born. One could say the entire organization existed for the symbiotes.
Now, he'd finally succeeded in bringing them to Earth…
Yet only two of the four symbiotes he'd dreamed of remained. How could he not be furious?
"Understood," the mercenary leader growled. "I'll find him. He killed too many of my people. I'll settle this score myself."
"I don't care about your revenge," Drake snapped. "But that man must be captured alive—he's my experimental subject."
"If anything happens to him," he added, voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "it won't just be a few of your men who die. I'll send all of you to meet Satan."
Drake's eyes blazed with terrifying ferocity.
Even the hardened mercenary leader flinched, too intimidated to utter a word.
He knew the man before him was truly capable of such cruelty.
Drake would pay any price for his symbiote research—in his eyes, human life was the cheapest commodity of all.
"I understand," the mercenary said quietly. "I'll bring him back to you alive."
He nodded and left the laboratory with deference.
Drake watched him go, brow furrowed and expression grim, lost in thought.
Just then, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from the glass-walled experimental chamber next door—deepening the scowl on his face.
"Did it fail again?"
"Yes, Dr. Drake. Another failure. This one lasted only three minutes before total organ failure."
"Damn it! How did that man in the grove survive so long? Keep the experiments running—we're missing something!"
"Dr… Dr. Drake… we've run out of human test subjects. There's no one left."
"Aren't people simple?" Drake scoffed. "Aren't there enough homeless people on the streets of New York? Offer them a little money, and they'll come back with you willingly."
"But—"
"No 'buts'!" Drake cut in. "We're working for the betterment of all humankind. Some sacrifices are… necessary."
He fixed the female researcher with an unyielding stare.
"Once we find a successful method for bonding, all of humanity can evolve. Don't you want your daughter to regain her health?"
Upon hearing Drake mention his daughter, the female researcher's eyes immediately hardened.
"I understand. I'll take care of it right away."
"Very good—that's the attitude you should have. Get back to work!"
With that, Drake turned and strode back to his office.
What he didn't expect was to find a cleaning lady sitting inside it.
Before he could even reprimand her, a silvery-gray liquid oozed from her body and surged toward him…
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret base, Nick Fury regarded Coulson and Natasha with a grim expression.
"So—what did that kid Loren say? Any news?"
"Sir," Natasha replied, "the housekeeper—Tifa—said a few days ago that their boss is still in seclusion in the lab and won't be coming out anytime soon."
She added that redeeming the Hulk wasn't impossible… if they could present a satisfactory amount of vibranium reserves.
"Bullshit!" Fury snapped. "He's already plundered every last gram of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s vibranium stockpile. There's nothing left!"
Wakanda, meanwhile, had locked down its vibranium mines and hadn't sold a single ounce to outsiders in years. Where was he supposed to find that much vibranium?
And with that kid's status and wealth, wouldn't he just buy it directly from Wakanda himself?
"He's always pulling this crooked, ridiculous crap—what's wrong with him?!" Fury growled.
Upon hearing Natasha's report, Fury's temper flared again, and he couldn't help but curse Loren under his breath.
"Sir, that's exactly what I told them," Natasha said. "But they insisted they don't care about anything except vibranium—only vibranium."
"They even claimed anyone could ransom the Hulk… as long as they delivered enough vibranium to satisfy them."
"Anyone? Holy hell—are they treating the Hulk like some kind of auction item? Do they think this is the 1800s or something?"
Fury's face darkened. "That damn brat is deliberately trying to get under my skin again… I swear, I'm going to—"
He was about to threaten Loren's life—when the base's alarm blared.
"WARNING! WARNING! NETWORK SYSTEM COMPROMISED. IMMINENT SYSTEM FAILURE DETECTED…"
"Sir," Coulson cut in dryly, "maybe you should stop swearing. Every time you curse at him, our system crashes."
"I've figured it out," Natasha added. "He must've embedded some kind of trigger in our network. It activates the moment you insult him."
"How's that even possible? It's just a coincidence."
"Then test it," Coulson challenged. "Go ahead—yell at him right now."
Fury narrowed his eyes. "Fine. I'll prove you wrong. @#$%—Loren, YOU—!"
"ALERT! ALERT! AUTOMATED DEFENSE TURRETS COMPROMISED! COMBAT SYSTEMS OFFLINE!"
The turrets swiveled violently, their barrels locking onto the helipad. Fire-control radar targeted three
Apache attack helicopters parked on the tarmac.
"...…" Fury stood frozen.
"Oh, shit!" Natasha gasped.
"Hot damn!" Coulson exclaimed.
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