Project Simba (5 years ago)
Simba was hungry. He was always hungry.
In the beginning, it was manageable. A few steaks here, a bucket of nutrient paste there.
But as his ability to devour matter developed, his appetite became dangerous.
On Skull Island, this was a liability. Ernst had a collection of rare, magical creatures—genetic oddities and ancient species he had spent years collecting.
Simba looked at them not as neighbors, but as snacks.
Ernst caught the dog eyeing a baby Skull Crawler with drool dripping from his jowls.
"No," Ernst had said, dragging the dog away.
"That is a specimen, not lunch."
Ernst dared not keep him near the lab anymore. If he turned his back for ten minutes, he might lose a year of research in a single bite.
So, he moved Simba.
He transported the beast to the Castle in the UK.
It was spacious, secure, and far away from the delicate ecosystem of the island.
"Winky," Ernst called out upon arrival.
The small house elf popped into existence, wearing her grey uniform.
"Yes, Master?"
"This is Simba," Ernst said, patting the massive black dog.
"He is your responsibility now. You are in charge of his diet. Keep him fed, but do not let him eat the furniture."
"Winky understands!" the elf squeaked, looking fearlessly at the predator.
For a while, it worked. Winky used magic to transport vast amounts of meat from local butchers.
But soon, Ernst discovered a new issue.
Simba wasn't just eating; he was hoarding nutrients.
His body was a biological sponge. His growth, which had previously halted at the size of a large calf, resumed with terrifying speed.
In one month, he grew from one meter tall to over two meters.
When he stood on his hind legs, he was taller than a grizzly bear. His paws were the size of dinner plates. And with the size came the hunger.
It wasn't linear; it was exponential. The more he grew, the more he needed to sustain the mass.
Ernst watched Simba pacing in the courtyard, the stone cracking under his weight.
"This is inefficient," Ernst muttered.
"He is becoming a tank that runs on too much fuel."
In Ernst's heart, Simba remained his beloved pet. He remembered the small puppy he had raised.
He was determined not to let Simba grow into a mindless, towering monster that lived only to eat.
He went to his study and pulled up the schematics of the Castle.
The Castle was built on a Leyline node.
"I can use the node," Ernst theorized.
"I can channel the raw energy of the earth directly into his cells. If I maximize the energy capacity of his cells, he won't need to eat physical matter to grow. He can run on pure power."
Ernst wasted no time. He modified one of the underground cultivation tanks to accommodate the massive dog.
He placed Simba inside. The dog trusted him completely and went into the suspension fluid without a fight.
Ernst initiated the strengthening process. He opened the valves, letting the energy from the earth flow into the tank.
But a week later, a new problem surfaced.
The alarms in the lab blared.
"Warning," the Red Queen's voice echoed.
"Subject Simba is displaying elevated cortisol levels. Heart rate is erratic. Aggression centers in the brain are overactive."
Ernst looked at the monitors. Simba was thrashing in his sleep, growling.
His eyes, usually warm, were flickering with a red light.
"Analysis," Ernst commanded.
"The energy from this specific node is impure," the Red Queen reported.
"It contains high concentrations of Negative energy."
Ernst frowned. "Negative energy."
He had forgotten the history of this land. It was old. Battles had been fought here. The earth remembered the death.
The energy coming from the ground was mixed with the dark residue of earth spirits, ghosts, and ancient monsters.
Simba was absorbing hatred along with the power.
"I need a filter," Ernst realized.
"Something that thrives on negative energy. Something that can suck out the poison so Simba gets only the clean fuel."
He walked to the stasis lockers.
He pulled out a heavy, sealed crate.
Inside was the frozen body of the Zombie—the Jiangshi he had captured in China years ago.
"You will do," Ernst whispered.
This revelation sparked a unique idea in Ernst's mind.
He had already extracted the T-Virus from this zombie.
He had also collected genetic material from vampires during his travels.
"If I combine them..."
Ernst went to his chemistry set. He mixed the T-Virus with the vampire extract.
He stabilized it. It was an upgraded virus—a pathogen designed to mutate and strengthen dead tissue without rotting it.
He woke the zombie up.
Using an ancient Chinese method he learned from the Maoshan books, Ernst set up a diversion array.
He connected the zombie to the energy feed.
"You drink the mud," Ernst said, flipping the switch.
"Simba drinks the water."
He infused the negative energy into the zombie's body. The zombie convulsed, its dead eyes snapping open. It began to absorb the dark power greedily.
Simba, on the other side of the filter, began to relax.
The energy reaching him was now pure, positive, and strengthening.
—--
Three years later
Simba thrived. His physique stopped growing in size but grew in density. His fur became like steel wire. He was healthy, strong, and sane.
But the zombie...
The zombie's transformation exceeded Ernst's wildest expectations.
Absorbing three years of concentrated negative energy had changed it.
First, its green, rotting skin healed. It turned pale white. Then, white hair sprouted from its head. Months later, the white hair turned jet black.
Its joints, which were once stiff (causing the hopping motion), mutated. They became flexible, fluid.
Ernst watched in shock as the creature's speed increased daily. It moved inside the tank like a blur.
One day, the limit broke.
Ernst was conducting a routine check when the zombie began to scream—a soundless vibration in the fluid.
It didn't just mutate; it changed states of matter.
The zombie turned into a black liquid. It collapsed into a soup of DNA and dark energy, then reassembled. It did this repeatedly, refining itself.
"It's trying to evolve," Ernst observed.
"But it lacks the blueprint."
Ernst made a decision. He loaded a syringe with the upgraded T-Virus.
He injected it directly into the black liquid.
Hiss.
The reaction was instant.
The liquid solidified. It took the shape of a man.
It looked human. It had skin, hair, and muscles. But genetically, it was something else entirely. It was a new species.
The evolved zombie opened its eyes. They were black, void-like.
It lacked memories. The original soul was long gone. It looked at Ernst and saw its creator. It's father.
It knelt.
"Master," it croaked.
Ernst tested its physical prowess. He took it to the reinforced training room.
"Attack the target," Ernst ordered.
The zombie moved. It was faster than the eye could follow. It punched through a foot of steel plating.
"Extraordinary," Ernst murmured.
"Transform," Ernst commanded, sensing a dormant gene.
The zombie roared. Its body expanded.
It grew. And grew.
It transformed into a snake monster. Its face turned white, its mouth filled with razor-sharp fangs. It grew scales.
It emitted a scorching hot aura. The moisture in the air evaporated instantly.
Outside the castle, dark clouds dispersed. The rain stopped.
The temperature spiked by ten degrees over hundreds of miles.
Ernst deduced the nature of the monster.
"A Dreadfish," he whispered, recalling the Chinese legends.
Legend said that where this monster appeared, the land would dry up.
"I was going to call you Rex," Ernst said, looking up at the thirty-meter-tall monster.
"But that is too soft."
The monster looked down, awaiting orders.
"You are a weapon," Ernst said.
"I will call you... The General."
The General possessed infinite zombie stamina, vampire-like speed, and abnormal recovery abilities. But its most terrifying power was the ability to rapidly divide and grow its cells.
Theoretically, it could grow forever. Currently, due to the square-cube law and gravity, it capped at thirty meters.
Ernst looked at his creation.
It was magnificent. It was a god of war.
But he couldn't use it.
"Return to form," Ernst ordered.
The General shrank back down to his human shape.
Ernst scanned him with the medical sensors.
"The T-Virus," Ernst muttered, looking at the readings.
"It is active. It is highly contagious."
If the General bled in battle, or if he bit someone, the virus would spread.
It wasn't just a zombie virus; it was a magical, super-virus. It would cause a global catastrophe.
The world would turn into a hellscape of monsters within weeks.
"I cannot release you," Ernst said, a hint of regret in his voice. "You are a ticking time bomb."
The General didn't argue. He just stood there, obedient.
Ernst led him back to the tank.
"Go back to sleep, General. I need to find a cure. I need to neutralize the contagion before you can see the sun."
He locked the General away. On one front, he persisted in feeding him negative energy to make him stronger.
On the other hand, he began a new line of research: a vaccine.
The Summons
One day, Ernst was busy in the laboratory.
He was dissecting a sample of the General's blood, trying to isolate the viral protein.
"Dr. Ernst," the Red Queen's voice interrupted.
"Not now," Ernst snapped. "I'm close."
"It is Mr. Azazel," the Queen persisted.
"He is at the door. He says it is urgent."
Ernst paused.
He knew Azazel. The demon was respectful. He knew never to interrupt Ernst when the "Do Not Disturb" light was on. If he were here, the sky was falling.
Ernst sighed, putting down his scalpel. He wiped his hands.
"Fine."
He stepped out of the lab. Azazel was waiting in the corridor, looking anxious.
"Dr. Ernst," Azazel said quickly.
"Mr. Shaw has summoned you. To the Hellfire Club. Urgently."
"My father?" Ernst raised an eyebrow.
"Does he want money? Or weapons?"
"He says he has something important to discuss. A plan."
Ernst knew Sebastian Shaw. The Black King was ambitious. If he was calling a family meeting, he was planning a war.
"I see," Ernst said. "I'll prepare and leave immediately."
He grabbed his coat.
The Hellfire Club
The Hellfire Club had existed since the 18th century. It was a secret society of the rich and powerful, recruiting top talent globally.
Shaw had initially declined their invitation years ago, thinking them frivolous. But later, he realized their value.
He sought to use the Club's influence to spark conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union.
His goal was simple and insane: Induce World War III. Detonate nuclear bombs. Stimulate mutant genes with global radiation to create a new master race.
Now, as the Black King, he needed Ernst's assistance.
"Take us there," Ernst ordered.
Azazel grabbed Ernst's shoulder.
BAMF.
They traversed the distance in a heartbeat.
They arrived at a secret Hellfire Club stronghold in New York. It was opulent, smelling of expensive cigars and old money.
Ernst was unfamiliar with this specific safehouse, so he followed Azazel's lead.
They walked down a hallway lined with portraits of former Kings and Queens. They reached a double door.
Ernst knocked.
"Enter," Shaw's voice boomed.
The door opened.
The room was a library, dimly lit. Four individuals were waiting.
Sebastian Shaw stood by the fireplace, holding a glass of whiskey. He looked triumphant.
"My dear Ernst," Shaw greeted him with a wide smile, spreading his arms.
"You're finally back. I heard you were playing monk in China. Let me introduce you to our compatriots."
Shaw gestured to the others.
"You know Emma Frost, the White Queen."
A stunning woman with platinum blonde hair and diamond-hard eyes sat on the sofa.
She wore white lingerie, unapologetic and regal.
"Hi," she said coolly.
"Mastermind," Shaw pointed to a thin, greasy-looking man in the corner.
Mastermind nodded silently.
"And..." Shaw paused.
There was a fourth person. An enigmatic woman with long black hair standing in the shadows.
Shaw conspicuously neglected to introduce her.
Ernst looked at Emma. He felt a psychic brush against his mind. He blocked it effortlessly with his own mental shields.
"You have grown stronger, Frost," Ernst said, his tone friendly but guarded.
Emma raised an eyebrow. She wasn't used to people blocking her telepathy so casually.
"You are kind. And you are... harder to read than your father."
Ernst turned to Mastermind. "And you must be Jason Wyngarde. I've heard of your illusions. Very useful for... distractions."
Mastermind remained silent.
"He doesn't talk much," Shaw explained quickly.
"He prefers to watch."
"Reliable," Ernst nodded.
"I like reliable."
Ernst turned his attention to the corner.
The introduction had omitted details about the mysterious woman in black. It raised questions. Why was she here? Why was Shaw ignoring her?
The woman stepped forward.
She radiated power. Ancient, dark power.
She wore black gothic clothing. Her skin was pale, her eyes dark pits.
She displayed a thick-skinned demeanor, ignoring Shaw's rudeness.
"What a handsome young man!" she purred. Her voice was like velvet wrapped around a dagger.
"Hello," she said, extending a hand.
"I'm Selene. The Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Ernst was taken aback.
Selene.
He knew the name. He knew the lore.
She was the oldest known mutant. A witch. A soul vampire.
She absorbed the vitality of others to maintain her youth.
Those who fell victim to her turned into dust. If she voluntarily returned part of her life force, the person became her slave.
She was fast, strong, and impossible to kill. Anyone familiar with her kept their distance.
But Ernst didn't step back. He looked at her.
"The pleasure is mine," Ernst said.
Shaw stepped in, his face turning red. He expressed his displeasure at Selene.
"Enough," Shaw snapped.
"Selene, you refused to fund the missile acquisition. Since you don't want to support me, you are not welcome here. Please leave."
It was an eviction order. Shaw wanted total control.
Rather than being angered, the Black Queen laughed.
"Don't be angry, Sebastian," she said, looking at Ernst.
"I've changed my mind."
She walked closer to Ernst, circling him like a predator.
"I can support your plan," Selene said.
"I will give you the gold. I will give you the influence."
"On one condition," she added.
"What?" Shaw asked suspicious.
"As long as you let this young man accompany me," Selene smiled, running a finger down Ernst's lapel.
"I want him to show me around. We can have a... good time."
Shaw's face went rigid.
"Don't even think about it," Shaw roared.
"Ernst is my son! I know what you are, witch. I'll never let him betray his principles or fall into your web..."
Shaw was protective. In his own twisted way, he cared.
"Enough!" Ernst interrupted.
The room went silent.
Ernst looked at his father. He looked at the frantic ambition in Shaw's eyes.
"Old man," Ernst said, shaking his head.
"You didn't agree to such a good offer? Are you stupid?"
"Ernst?" Shaw blinked.
"She's offering funding and support," Ernst said.
"And all I have to do is take a walk with a beautiful woman?"
Ernst turned to Selene. He grinned.
"Just go," Ernst said to his father.
"You have a war to plan."
Before Shaw could finish his protest, Ernst pulled him aside roughly.
"Dear father," Ernst whispered.
"Don't worry about that old man. He's got a couple of screws loose. He thinks he can fight the world with a submarine and a helmet."
Ernst turned back to Selene.
"Let's go," Ernst said, offering his arm.
"Let's find a place to have a good chat. We can talk about life, ideals... and vitality."
Selene's eyes sparkled. She took his arm.
Leaving Shaw, Emma, the Red Devil, and Mastermind stunned in the library, Ernst proceeded to exit the room with the Black Queen.
They chatted and laughed as they walked down the hall, leaving the impending nuclear war for later.
Ernst knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn't the prey. He was just a different kind of hunter.
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