The chemical plant had long since been abandoned to rust. The wind howled through broken vents, carrying with it the stench of old chemicals. Somewhere deep below, dormant machines awaited the touch of new masters.
As the heavy doors creaked open, the factory greeted them with silence and stale air. Dust hung thick in the weak shafts of light breaking through cracked windows. Rusted machines sat inert beneath layers of grime, long-dead consoles showing no signs of life. No lights greeted them. No systems stirred. Only the faint echo of their footsteps moved through the hollowed bones of the plant.
Servo-skulls hovered at Luthar's back, casting long, skeletal shadows on cracked concrete. He moved with mechanical precision, ignoring the ruin around him as though it had already been reforged beneath his will.
Trailing behind were the others.
"So… remind me," Rumlow said as he eyed a rusting array of pipes that looked moments from collapse, "how exactly are we supposed to make this dump into a functioning chemical plant? Even if the four of us work nonstop, it's not happening anytime soon."
He kept his tone light, conversational. It didn't fool anyone here. Beneath the words sat calculation, the natural suspicion of a man who served two masters and trusted neither.
Luthar didn't bother to look at him. "Recruitment."
Liliruca, perched on an overturned chemical drum, raised an eyebrow. "You mean hiring people? That would be dangerous. What if they leaked the technology? I know you'd kill them afterwards, but that doesn't exactly undo the damage."
"We don't need workers. Especially not ones with a conscience," Luthar corrected. "We need bodies. Healthy, alive. If we look in the right places, we'll find plenty."
"We can start with criminals," Rumlow said, a faint smirk curling his lip. "Plenty of those in Hell's Kitchen. No one asks questions when they disappear."
Hearing Rumlow's quick answer, Luthar decided he would not turn him into a mindless servitor. The man had quick thinking, and he himself had gotten the last batch of heads from Hell's Kitchen as well.
Liliruca shrugged, unbothered. "Fine by me. Less paperwork. Besides, it's not like anyone's going to miss a bunch of bottom-feeders."
But Kara, the only one among them still truly loyal to SHIELD, stiffened. Her hands curled unconsciously into fists. "You're talking about abducting people," she said, voice tighter than she meant it to be. "Taking them and… what? Turning them into more of your machines?"
Luthar regarded her with the same dispassion he gave any malfunctioning component. "Correction. They will not become machines. They will become tools. Useful ones. Ones that will help spread the blessings of the Machine God."
"Nobody spreads blessings by turning themselves into half-machine abominations," she said, though her voice lacked strength now.
"I suppose someone requires additional education." Luthar turned away without further acknowledgement.
At this moment, Kara truly wanted to walk away. But leaving wasn't an option. Walking away meant suspicion. Meant consequences from both SHIELD and Luthar. She swallowed down the knot of fear rising in her throat and stayed silent.
That night, the trio moved through the rotting backstreets of Hell's Kitchen. Their destination: a crumbling warehouse still clinging to life as a drug distribution point. Dozens of men moved inside — packing, dealing, smuggling. The perfect harvest.
Luthar's orders had been clear: capture, not kill. Damaged goods served no purpose.
Liliruca smiled beneath her helmet, tightening the straps on her gauntlets as they watched from the shadows. "Ready for some light exercise?"
Rumlow loaded a dart rifle with practised efficiency, then checked the equipment. Non-lethal rounds. Gas grenades. Stun batons. He thought, If it weren't for Luthar wanting them breathing, this would be much simpler.
Kara hesitated only a moment before preparing her own gear. Orders were orders, and it's not like she could refuse. If she did… she might join the ranks of these future 'workers.'
They moved fast when they struck.
Gas canisters hissed through broken windows. Men choked, coughed, and collapsed. Those who resisted met shock batons and precision strikes designed to incapacitate, not kill. Within minutes, the chaos had been silenced beneath the hiss of respirators and the soft thuds of bodies hitting the floor.
Steel containers — repurposed, reinforced — waited in the alley outside. Each criminal was tagged, catalogued, and loaded like cargo for transport. Alive, unconscious, ready for their transformation.
Liliruca leaned against a wall, watching Rumlow toss another limp figure onto a stretcher. "Wow. You really do have some skills."
Rumlow only nodded. "We'll have our first batch ready before dawn."
Kara moved apart, beneath the fractured remains of a streetlamp, and sent her message in the dead of night.
Subject: Unauthorised Human Experimentation — Ongoing Operation
Location: Hell's Kitchen, vicinity of abandoned Plant #47.
Details: Suspected mass abduction, forced augmentation. Request immediate review.
The reply came faster than she expected.
Acknowledged. Continue observation. No intervention authorised.
Criminal losses are not our concern.
Her stomach turned again. They didn't care. Not really. As long as it didn't touch SHIELD's precious optics, they'd let Hell rot.
She rejoined the others without another word.
By the time they returned to the Sanctuary, which was previously transformed from an observatory given by Tony Stark.
The cargo had been secured. Rows of containers now lined the floor, hissing quietly as life support systems kept their contents docile.
"You can go and sleep for now," Luthar instructed, observing the haul without emotion. "I will prepare separate rewards for each of you."
Liliruca stretched, satisfied. "Well, you could add flight boosters to my armour next."
Rumlow checked the seals on the containers. "And if you're really giving out rewards, how about something close to Stark's armour? At least something more practical."
Hearing this, Luthar's optics dimmed briefly in irritation. How easily humans misunderstood what true armour meant.
Kara said nothing. At least one of them wasn't obsessed with Tony Stark's legacy.
After dismissing the others to their quarters — it was rare to find anyone who remained sane after watching a human reduced to a servitor — Luthar returned to his work.
The next phase could begin.
Beneath his hands, the blueprints for augmentation chambers glowed anew. Machinery hissed to life, preparing to reshape flesh into something more durable, more obedient.
Above, the world remained blind.
Below, Luthar's war machine turned on.
Author's note: you know the drill: just go to the link below, and you get access to all 45-plus advanced chapters. If you are thinking I just uploaded chapter 157, if you have a suggestion or something to tell me, you can comment like always.
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