Marcus knew Alex better than to think he'd focus solely on improving mobility. The massive, mutated claw on the Chaser's right arm clearly hid far greater potential.
Alex began his explanation. "The Chaser's claw is its initial weapon — sharp enough to tear through tank armor with ease."
As he spoke, one of the Chasers in the training yard extended its monstrous right hand. The claw — nearly half the size of a human body — began to glow white-hot as the Extremis Virus ignited within it, generating tremendous heat. A gust of hot air swept across the training ground just before the Chaser brought the claw down with a deafening slash.
The reinforced concrete wall before it shuddered violently. A blast of heat and dust burst into the air. When the smoke cleared, five enormous, molten claw marks scarred the surface. The rebar inside had been sliced clean through, even melted from the heat. Were it not for the absurd five-meter thickness of the wall, that single strike would have reduced it to rubble.
The destructive force was astonishing. Unless one wore armor on par with Iron Man's suit, even a solid barrier couldn't save them — a single swing could cut through walls or vehicles alike. Tanks, to a Chaser, were nothing more than cans waiting to be opened.
But Marcus's sharp mind caught on a detail in Alex's wording.
"Initial weapon?" he repeated. "You mean it can be rearmed?"
"That's right," Alex replied, his tone calm but confident.
He walked to a long steel table lined with all kinds of heavy weaponry, picked up an M84 84mm rocket launcher, and tossed it toward the Chaser.
The creature's mutated claws instantly contracted, folding inward like the paw of a massive feline. Its right arm transformed into a dense, pulsating mass of flesh. As the rocket launcher fell toward it, the Chaser raised that strange limb — and caught the weapon effortlessly.
Then, in full view, it pressed the rear of the launcher into its arm. Dozens of slender tendrils shot out from the flesh, coiling around the metal tube, fusing it seamlessly to the limb until weapon and body became one.
The Chaser then aimed its new arm-cannon toward the concrete wall and fired.
A thunderous explosion followed, the blast wave shaking the ground beneath them. Smoke and flame engulfed the area. When Alex threw it another rocket, the Chaser caught it with its unmutated left hand, reloaded, and fired again — with mechanical precision.
Marcus couldn't help but nod approvingly. "So it's a multi-purpose combat unit… capable of adapting to any weapon."
"Exactly," Alex replied. "Thanks to Whiplash's research, we've been able to integrate Stark Industries weapon interfaces into our designs. The Chaser represents our first successful attempt at a hybrid biomechanical soldier. As you can see, it handles advanced weaponry remarkably well."
Marcus's eyes gleamed. He knew Alex was right. His zombie army couldn't rely solely on biological mutation — that path had limits. Combining it with Marvel's advanced technology to create cybernetic, virus-driven soldiers was the most efficient and terrifying direction possible.
After all, the undead didn't die unless their brains were destroyed. Their bodies could endure endless mechanical modification. With a team of scientific prodigies — Tony, Killian, Osborn, Octavius, Connors, and now Whiplash — creating humanoid weapons on the level of the Terminator was no longer a dream.
The Chaser proved that even the infected could wield human technology. The next logical step, Marcus thought, would be creating adamantium-reinforced zombies — beings that rivaled Wolverine himself in durability and regeneration.
Alex gestured toward the table of weapons and continued, "The Chasers can use almost any armament — heavy Gatling guns, flamethrowers, Stark Industries' laser rifles, even sonic blasters. Their strength and balance allow them to handle weapons no human could. Their carrying capacity is over four times that of a trained soldier, and their agility is unmatched."
Marcus smiled faintly, pleased. "Excellent. For the upcoming battle, we'll need units capable of performing multiple combat roles. Efficiency over quantity — you've done well, Alex."
"Thank you, sir," Alex replied, bowing slightly.
Marcus then raised a more practical concern. "What about production? I assume they're easier to create than the Thunderbeasts?"
As if on cue, a formation of Chasers marched past them in perfect synchrony — nearly three hundred of them. Their right arms had fused with a variety of weapons: flamethrowers, cannons, machine guns, and even Stark-tech prototypes. Marcus suspected Alex had raided one of Stark Industries' old armories to obtain such a diverse arsenal.
"Compared to the Thunderbeasts, their production is relatively simple," Alex explained. "We only need physically robust zombies as hosts for the Extremis conversion process. Roughly one in five hundred specimens meets the criteria. At full capacity, we should have around seven hundred Chasers ready before the U.S. military arrives."
Marcus nodded, though his gaze was distant. Seven hundred was impressive — but against the tens of thousands of U.S. troops, it was still too few. Even with their speed and firepower, they'd be scattered across the battlefield in small squads, making precision strikes at best. Still, if each could alter the tide of a localized engagement, that might be enough.
Not ideal, but satisfactory for now.
He turned to Alex, his expression approving. "You've done well. Continue your work. I expect both the Thunderbeasts and the Chasers to shine on the battlefield the day after tomorrow."
"They will, Master," Alex replied confidently.
After dismissing him, Marcus returned alone to the rooftop of a nearby skyscraper. From there, he looked down upon the streets of Queens — a seething sea of the undead. Ordinary zombies packed the district by the millions, shuffling endlessly through the ruins.
They were his true army — his foundation.
And yet, he couldn't help but sigh.
Their numbers were vast, but their strength was pitiful. A single untrained human with a blunt weapon could kill one with ease. Against soldiers — or worse, superheroes — these creatures would be slaughtered wholesale before they even reached firing range.
If he wanted them to serve as more than cannon fodder, something had to change.
Soon.
_____
T/N:
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