Marvel: Xenomorphs

Listening to Thor's words, Duncan's expression remained unchanged from start to finish.

Surprise? Displeasure? None of that—he simply sat there calmly, silently watching Thor.

"Borrowing an army… To be honest, that's a crazy idea. If I agree, it means getting involved in a world-class war," Duncan said slowly.

Take Asgard, for example. The core population of Asgard's main continent is actually quite small—barely reaching a hundred thousand. Most of its people are scattered across the Nine Realms, stationed on various planets.

Among them are civilians, which means the number of actual warriors available for battle is even smaller.

Other realms, like Jotunheim—ruled by Laufey and the Frost Giants—or Muspelheim—ruled by Surtur—likely don't have large populations either.

But their leaders? They're all god-tier beings.

When they go to war, entire planets get obliterated.

Look at Odin—wielding Gungnir, clad in the Destroyer Armor—he dared to take on the Celestials. That's beyond fierce.

"Mjolnir chose you. You are now the new God of Thunder. You should take responsibility for that title!"

Thor became more agitated as he spoke. To him, this was an admission of his own failure. Every time he saw Duncan casually toying with Mjolnir, he felt a pang of jealousy so intense it could split molecules.

Yet, Duncan remained unmoved. Trying to bind him—who was still technically an Earthling—to Asgardian responsibilities? What a joke.

"With great power comes great responsibility?"

"That's right! That's exactly what I mean!"

"So, Thor, how many soldiers do you want to borrow?" Duncan asked seriously.

Thor exhaled a breath of relief, believing he had convinced Duncan with his eloquence. Then, looking at the Xenomorphs around him, he fell into deep thought.

Borrowing an army… but how many?

Thor could guess that Duncan wouldn't keep all his Xenomorphs crammed inside this rundown building. But if he asked for too many, Duncan might not be able—or willing—to provide them.

Because let's be real—this wasn't a loan. It was a gift.

If he took these troops into a war between gods, the casualties would be staggering.

If they all died, there'd be nothing to return.

"You look just like I did as a child, struggling over the perfect ratio of frosting to cake, trying to find the best balance between satisfaction and taste," Duncan remarked, watching Thor's rare moment of hesitation. "I can see that since coming to Earth, your personality has changed. At the very least, you've started thinking."

"If you were stripped of all your power, if even your closest allies abandoned you, you'd be just like me," Thor said, his tone deadly serious.

If he hadn't lost his powers, if he hadn't suffered one blow after another, he wouldn't have grown—let alone started using his brain.

Thor raised a hand, showing five fingers.

"Five thousand? You want to borrow five thousand soldiers? Alright, that's not a small number. Give me some time," Duncan nodded slightly.

Thor's mouth opened and closed. He had meant to ask for fifty.

From his centuries of battlefield experience, Thor knew Xenomorphs had many advantages. Their natural exoskeletal armor provided considerable defense—more than enough to withstand most human firearms, putting them on par with elite Asgardian warriors, despite lacking high-tech equipment.

In terms of offense, their inner jaw, tail, and highly corrosive blood were terrifying weapons.

But most importantly, they were born warriors—cold, calculated, perfectly coordinated, and utterly relentless in battle. That was their greatest strength.

Fifty Xenomorphs wouldn't win the war for him, and Thor wasn't delusional. He only wanted to take a handful from Earth to aid Loki—perhaps as a strike force to target key Frost Giant leaders.

Fifty. That was the number he had carefully considered. Given Duncan's Xenomorph forces, he figured there had to be at least that many, if not thirty or forty.

But now…

Duncan had casually responded with five thousand?!

Five thousand!

"Thank you for your generosity, this is… I don't even understand the societal structure of your species. There's no record of them in Asgard's library, or at least nothing I remember. But what I do need are elite troops. Don't send me low-tier civilian Xenomorphs—that would just be sending them to their deaths," Thor hesitated, then added.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing."

The Xenomorphs Duncan planned to deploy were primarily Blood Xenomorphs. Given their vampire hosts' superior physiology, these Xenomorphs had higher combat prowess—barely reaching the threshold of supernatural beings.

At the very least, Blood Xenomorphs could shrug off most human firearms. Even if injured, their natural regeneration—enhanced by the vampires' innate healing—would allow them to recover quickly.

Sending in weaker Xenomorphs—like those spawned from common animals—would be useless. The moment they encountered stronger weaponry, they'd be torn apart.

Sure, they could still contribute—after all, even the weakest Xenomorph's blood could dissolve spaceship alloys. Melting through Frost Giant flesh and internal organs? Definitely possible.

But if he had stronger Xenomorphs available, why not use them?

Besides, they could swarm enemies in melee combat and expand the battlefield.

Duncan spoke confidently: "Xenomorphs have their weaknesses, but one thing you can count on—when they fight, they fight to the death. They will rip themselves apart if necessary, ensuring that their warrior blood soaks their enemy's head."

Even in a worst-case scenario, they could at least achieve a one-for-one kill ratio. Maybe they'd lose, but they'd ensure their enemies suffered severe losses.

Thor stared at Duncan, stunned.

"I hope you're not joking."

"You've been on Earth how long, and you're already picking up human sarcasm?"

Their eyes locked.

"Five thousand… Five thousand… If there are really that many…" Thor muttered, his excitement growing.

His expectations had been low—yet now, he had been granted a hundredfold of what he'd hoped for. This was nothing short of a miracle.

Five thousand Xenomorphs—each barely reaching the supernatural threshold, each capable of achieving a one-for-one kill ratio—this was not just a strike force.

This was an army.

"As far as I know, Frost Giants prefer close-quarters combat, right? Using their sheer physicality and frost magic to overwhelm their enemies. Well, guess what? That's my favorite kind of battle too," Duncan grinned.

Because once the Xenomorphs reached critical mass, their greatest weakness wasn't melee combat.

It was long-range attacks—high-tech weaponry, large-scale bombardments, or devastating magical strikes.

But against Frost Giants?

It was about to be a slaughter.

In a way, while warfare was undoubtedly perilous, it was also the most suitable battlefield for the Xenomorphs.

At least, that was the case before Duncan developed the specialized Xenomorph strains that could harness unique energies.

"My brother, we must have a proper drink together! Once we reach Asgard, I'll offer you the finest mead and introduce you to the most beautiful women!" Thor was visibly excited, his body trembling slightly as he grabbed Duncan's hands in a firm grip, refusing to let go.

Duncan remained expressionless, prying Thor's sweaty hands off one finger at a time. He glanced around, then called over Elektra. Without hesitation, he wiped his hands vigorously on her newly regenerated, soft, pale thigh.

Elektra's eyes widened in shock, staring at her boss in utter disbelief.

"You really have five thousand troops at your disposal?" Elektra wanted to lash out, but the Xenomorph embryo in her chest forcefully suppressed the impulse. Left with no other choice, she changed the subject and asked instead.

Hearing that number, even Elektra was taken aback.

Was it just her imagination, or had Duncan deliberately inflated the count to the thousands?

"Not yet, but soon. Expanding an army isn't something I do alone—there are plenty of others working toward that goal."

Duncan finally stood up, taking in Thor's elation—his face alight with joy, yet tinged with the anxious fear that it might not be real. Duncan's gaze passed through the collapsed doors, looking toward the distance.

He felt like a desperate arms dealer, tirelessly marketing the value of Xenomorphs as weapons, hoping his clients would bring them along when war broke out.

And Thor had no other choice—he was willing to take the Xenomorphs into battle.

Who else could he turn to? The Inhumans? Black Bolt would have to be insane to drag his sparse population into war. Kamar-Taj? Atlantis?

"Be patient, Thor. It won't take long. I need some time to expand my forces—war is never a simple matter."

If Thor were in command, he'd probably only give one order: Charge with me!

"You're not going to fight?" Thor looked at him in surprise, as if it were unthinkable for a leader to stay behind while his forces waged war in his name.

"No, I won't be fighting. A battle of this scale doesn't require my presence," Duncan replied calmly. The truth was, even if he didn't join the fight personally, he could still control all the Xenomorphs remotely.

More importantly, he had no interest in being crushed to death by some unexpected Skyfather-tier or near-Skyfather-tier powerhouse. Staying on Earth and operating remotely ensured that even if Jotunheim was pushed to desperation, they wouldn't dare come to Earth seeking revenge.

"Well then, it's time for him to prove his worth… Mr. Blue."

Leaving Thor behind, Duncan vanished in a blur of motion, moving too fast for the naked eye to follow. Accompanied by several Abomination Xenomorphs and a few Mutant Xenomorphs, he disappeared into the distance.

Meanwhile, deep in the sewers, Mr. Blue was painstakingly studying the secrets of the Xenomorphs.

Around him, dozens of pale green creatures floated in vats of formaldehyde, sleeping.

These were the products of his research—creatures created using Hulk's blood, modeled after Abomination, and entirely under his control.

But that wasn't what Mr. Blue truly desired. He wanted to replicate the Xenomorphs, to command those magnificent beings.

His intellect, now enhanced five hundred times over, never ceased its calculations. Deduction and simulation were as effortless as eating and drinking.

"The moment he returned from New Mexico, he went silent… He pinpointed Thor's arrival with precision, then successfully left as Thor. Did he infect the Thunder God?" Mr. Blue's excitement grew.

"Asgard must have suffered some major catastrophe—what could it be? An invasion? A civil war?" He couldn't be certain, but he knew that after Duncan's encounter with Thor, further action was inevitable.

And just then, a massive explosion erupted overhead, shattering the ceiling. Duncan descended from above, landing directly in front of him.

"It seems you've been working hard," Duncan remarked, glancing at the pale green abominations floating in their tanks.

"Of course. I knew a man like you wouldn't leave me alone—you must have had Xenomorphs secretly watching me all this time. So I waited. You need my research, don't you?" Mr. Blue didn't look the least bit surprised. Instead, he lowered his head slightly and let out a manic chuckle.

Duncan frowned slightly. It seemed this universe's version of Mr. Blue, whose brain had been altered by Hulk's blood, was a bit… unhinged. But as long as he was useful, that didn't matter.

"From now on, you will dedicate yourself fully to producing these monstrosities. You—and everything you've created—belong to me."

"War is breaking out? Are you preparing to fight S.H.I.E.L.D. or some other organization? Is this about controlling Thor, or—"

Duncan didn't bother answering. Instead, he calmly implanted a Facehugger on Mr. Blue.

The scientist's eyes rolled back, and he passed out, his lips turning pale. Moments later, his Hulk-enhanced physiology allowed him to regain consciousness far faster than a normal host.

"There's something growing in my chest… As I suspected, these creatures assimilate their host's genetic material." Mr. Blue was even more exhilarated, carefully sensing the transformation within him.

From the moment the first Abomination Xenomorph was born, he had secretly collected trace genetic samples from its remains. Yet, despite his efforts, he had been unable to replicate the Xenomorphs. He had been waiting for Duncan's arrival.

He needed to understand them first, then decode their secrets, then master them completely—until, at last, he could surpass Duncan and enslave both him and the Xenomorphs.

That was Mr. Blue's plan.

Duncan could roughly guess what this ambitious mad scientist was thinking, but now wasn't the time to worry about it.

A mere Mr. Blue wasn't enough to provide him with a massive army.

In the coming days, his primary focus would be deploying more Xenomorphs on large-scale raids—especially targeting vampires. Meanwhile, Mr. Blue's genetic experiments and the Xenomorph egg that had been taken away would also play a crucial role.

...

Inside the Helicarrier's biological research lab.

"We did it! The Xenomorphs truly communicate through pheromones! So far, there has been no sign of telepathic activity. We've managed to extract its secretions and develop a pheromone-based control agent!"

"Have you noticed? This Xenomorph is evolving rapidly. If our hypothesis is correct, it's transforming into a reproductive Queen! Asexual reproduction—that's how Xenomorphs propagate! Incredible!"

A group of scientists gathered around, excitedly discussing the Xenomorph locked inside a cage reinforced with Adamantium.

...

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