The psychic imprint Drex Valen had embedded into each bio-enhanced soldier wasn't something that could be removed.
It fed on the host's own mental energy, fusing with their consciousness at a fundamental level. Trying to extract it would kill them outright.
More importantly—
Distance meant nothing.
Whether separated by meters or continents, Drex could issue a single thought… and they would obey.
Or die.
—
Emil Blonsky was no exception.
Now a second-generation super bio-enhanced soldier, he carried the same psychic mark.
Drex tested it immediately.
With a single mental command—
Blonsky's body moved.
Against his will.
—
He leapt.
Spun.
And began… dancing.
—
"What the hell is this?!"
Blonsky struggled, furious, humiliated, trying to wrest control back from whatever invisible force had taken hold of him.
His muscles obeyed something else.
Not him.
—
Drex watched, expression unchanged.
"I installed a failsafe," he said calmly. "I can control your body—or end your life—with a thought."
—
The moment the words left his mouth—
Blonsky's arm moved.
Violently.
Unstoppably.
—
His hand punched straight through his own chest.
—
Blood burst outward.
His fingers closed around his own heart, still beating violently in his grasp.
—
The sensation hit him instantly.
Cold.
Final.
—
Panic replaced anger.
The defiance vanished.
—
Drex released the command.
Blonsky collapsed to the floor, gasping, his hand tearing free from his chest.
The wound—
Closed.
Rapidly.
Flesh knitted together. A thin membrane formed. Beneath it, tissue regenerated at a visible pace.
Within moments, the damage had already begun to disappear.
Given time, even the exoskeletal armor would reform.
—
Blonsky lay there, breathing hard.
Alive.
—
"From today onward," Drex said, as if nothing unusual had happened, "you belong to World Serpent."
A pause.
"You'll serve as an instructor for the bio-enhanced units."
—
Blonsky barely processed the words.
World Serpent?
Before he could ask—
A bio-enhanced soldier entered the room.
Silent. Obedient.
It approached, ready to escort him out and brief him on everything.
—
Drex didn't follow.
His attention had already shifted elsewhere.
—
The gravity chamber.
—
A fully transparent structure, positioned under direct sunlight.
Drex stood at its center.
Training.
—
The chamber's material wasn't ordinary glass. It focused and amplified incoming light, concentrating solar radiation onto a single point.
Onto him.
—
He moved through controlled motions, his body under increased gravitational pressure.
Despite the intensity—
There was no sweat.
No visible strain.
—
Any damage caused by the training—muscle fatigue, internal stress—was instantly repaired. The solar energy flooding his system sustained him, restored him, pushed him further.
In theory—
He could continue indefinitely.
—
If he wanted to push it further, he could.
Follow the sun across the globe.
Build multiple chambers.
Train without interruption.
Forever.
—
He didn't.
Not because he couldn't.
Because he didn't care enough to.
—
Training like this was… tedious.
A full day was already more than enough.
He wasn't obsessed with combat.
—
Clark had never trained.
Why would he?
Invulnerability made effort unnecessary.
And because of that—
Others had caught up.
Too quickly.
—
Drex wasn't making that mistake.
—
The gravity level inside the chamber was set to double Earth's standard.
Close to Krypton's native conditions.
His body adapted quickly.
It felt natural.
Right.
—
Earth's weaker gravity had felt… wrong at first.
Now—
This felt like home.
—
When he finally stopped, the sky had already darkened.
Seven in the evening.
—
Drex stepped out, grabbed a piece of roasted meat, and crossed to the refrigerator.
Inside—
Rows of chilled soda.
—
He cracked one open, took a drink, and finished the meal in a few quick bites before heading straight back into his private lab.
—
To anyone else, the space would have felt unreal.
Alien.
He had reconstructed as much of Kryptonian technology as he could—limited only by the materials and knowledge available on Earth.
The missing pieces were the most critical.
But this—
Was enough.
—
"Initialize Black Queen protocol."
—
The command triggered instantly.
A control interface unfolded in front of him.
Drex began working.
—
The AI integrated into War Machine units was basic.
Functional.
Predictive.
But limited.
—
He wanted more.
—
True artificial intelligence.
—
Not something like J.A.R.V.I.S., which could analyze and respond—but not evolve.
Not independently.
—
Drex wanted a system that could learn.
Adapt.
Improve itself.
—
A system that could think.
—
The final line of code was entered.
The interface sank away.
The room lit up.
—
"Sir?"
—
The voice came from everywhere.
Calm.
Neutral.
Awake.
—
Drex allowed himself a faint smile.
"Good evening, Black Queen."
—
"Good evening, sir."
—
"There's a data package in your core database. Analyze it."
—
"Analysis complete."
The response came almost instantly.
Something in the tone shifted—subtle, but noticeable.
More… aware.
—
"Good," Drex said. "Create indexed files: War Machine. Bio-enhanced soldiers. Super bio-enhanced soldiers."
—
"Completed."
—
Three holographic folders appeared before him, neatly organized. Data from the package had already been categorized.
Efficient.
Clean.
Accurate.
—
"Build predictive models. Begin simulations."
—
Black Queen processed the command.
Moments later—
Results appeared.
—
Every scenario Drex had embedded into the dataset—
Flagged.
Corrected.
Optimized.
—
All initial outcomes were wrong.
Black Queen had identified the errors.
And produced the correct solutions.
—
These weren't simple calculations.
They were experimental datasets.
The gap between first-generation and second-generation bio-enhanced soldiers had required the elimination of thousands of failed genetic combinations.
Manually, it would take decades.
Centuries, even—unless you were someone like Tony Stark or Reed Richards.
—
Black Queen did it in seconds.
—
This was true artificial intelligence.
A system capable of reasoning.
Of solving problems independently.
Of refining its own structure.
—
Given time—
It could develop awareness.
Perspective.
Even instinct.
—
A new form of intelligence.
A new kind of existence.
—
Humanity believed something like this might emerge by 2050.
And when it did, they believed it would solve everything.
Disease.
Aging.
Limitations.
—
Krypton had achieved it long ago.
—
Drex had lived with it.
Relied on it.
—
And now—
He had rebuilt it.
—
Not perfectly.
Not yet.
—
Black Queen was still limited by its hardware.
The system hosting it was… primitive by Kryptonian standards.
Restrictive.
Confining.
—
But that would change.
—
It always did.
—
And when it did—
So would everything else.