Kurogai remained within the spacecraft base, focused solely on his work. He had no interest in the shifting currents of the outside world. But beyond his walls, the world was already reacting.
In S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Director Nick Fury sat in his office, a grim expression shadowing his face as he studied the latest report. His brow furrowed deeper with each line.
"Two unidentified operatives infiltrated the Los Angeles prison and freed four hundred death-row inmates," he muttered aloud. "And they vanished without a trace. No trajectory, no signs of escape—just gone, as if they disappeared into thin air."
The security footage was worthless, deliberately destroyed. Still, the eyewitness accounts from surviving guards told Fury enough.
"Kurogai," he whispered under his breath, his voice taut with unease. "What are you up to now?"
He knew instantly who the world would suspect. Kurogai had requested condemned prisoners before, and now another four hundred had disappeared. Counting everything, nearly six hundred criminals were unaccounted for. Even with experiments or projects, why would anyone need so many? Fury didn't like the questions that led to.
What unsettled him further was the destruction of the surveillance cameras. That was pointless. Everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. would assume Kurogai was involved regardless, and the testimony of guards couldn't be erased. Which meant either Kurogai was being sloppy—or someone else was at work.
In truth, Fury didn't know the real culprit. The chaos hadn't been Kurogai's doing at all, but Wade Wilson's. Deadpool's chaotic personality left little room for subtlety; destroying cameras for no reason fit him perfectly.
"No," Fury growled softly, "we can't keep reacting to him. We need strength of our own. Has our special guest been contacted yet?"
Agent Maria Hill stepped forward, tablet in hand. "Sir, that's still in progress. But we've made a major discovery at the Arctic site." Her voice carried a flicker of restrained excitement.
Fury's one good eye narrowed. "Arctic site? You mean…?"
Hill nodded. "Yes. We've located the shield—and the man himself. He's still frozen, but with our technology, we can bring him back."
For the first time in hours, Fury allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upward.
Captain America. The legendary soldier. The living miracle of the Super-Soldier Serum. The military had never truly abandoned the search for him, and now their patience had been rewarded.
"Good," Fury said firmly. "With him, our strength gets a much-needed boost."
In truth, Fury knew Steve Rogers was not the strongest fighter in the world. He wasn't on the level of gods or monsters. But Captain America represented far more than raw power. He was a symbol—a leader who could inspire unity when it mattered most.
And beyond that symbolism was something even more valuable: the serum in his blood. If S.H.I.E.L.D. could analyze and replicate it, they might create an army of enhanced soldiers. That possibility was worth everything.
"Hill, double the resources on that site. I want Rogers thawed as quickly as possible," Fury ordered.
"Yes, Director."
Far away, within the vast halls of the spacecraft base, Kurogai was deep in his own project.
Rows of reinforced cells stretched out, each filled with prisoners in tattered uniforms. These were the death-row inmates he had acquired before. But now, they were no longer ordinary men.
Some bore scales shimmering faintly across their flesh. Others had skin tinged blue, their veins glowing unnaturally. A few exhaled frosty breaths that froze their cell doors with a single sigh.
These men were no longer human. The scientists had transformed them into something else entirely—proto-mutants, born from experimentation. Their powers were unstable, their minds fragile. Having tasted strength, they were eager to lash out.
But under Kurogai's gaze, not a single one dared move. His very presence crushed their will to rebel. In this domain, his word was law.
"Kurogai," Jean Grey approached, holding a datapad with neat rows of figures. "The latest batch has been fully transformed. Their genetic structures are stable—no signs of collapse."
Kurogai scanned the data, then gave a curt nod. "I see. Good work, Jean. But leave now. What happens next… is not for you to witness."
Jean hesitated, her brow softening. She understood what he meant. The harvesting of results from these experiments would not be clean—it would be cruel. And though her power was vast, her heart was not hardened enough for such sights.
"I'll prepare materials for the next phase, then," she said quietly. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she turned, closing the heavy door behind her.
Alone once more, Kurogai turned back toward the cells. His expression hardened, his voice low and cold.
"So, it's time."
A weapon materialized in his grip—a dark scythe, its edge gleaming with lethal promise. He stepped forward, each footfall echoing against the metal floor, drawing nearer to the trembling prisoners.
The harvest was about to begin.