After bribing a few doctors, Zod obtained detailed medical and personal information on several veterans. He filtered out those with strong family ties, those who were too old, and those lacking the necessary physical fitness records. Despite these restrictions, he was left with over a hundred viable candidates. The United States, constantly embroiled in conflict, had no shortage of such veterans. And these weren't the only prospects—veterans hospitals across the country housed many more. Zod realized he would never run short of potential recruits for his experiments.
Given the task of convincing these veterans to join his cause, Zod hired three skilled lobbyists. He wasn't particularly gifted in persuasion, but here in America, money talked. The lobbyists, having long abandoned their consciences, used their silver tongues to persuade—no, deceive—the veterans into signing up. These were men who had lost hope, confined to hospital beds and waiting out the rest of their lives. The offer to recover their strength and vitality was too tempting to refuse.
Though wary, the veterans were swayed. They all dreamed of walking again, of regaining their former glory. Companies like Oscorp had dabbled in similar projects—like Connors' failed attempt with the lizard serum—fueled by a similar desire to restore lost limbs.
After signing strict contracts, the veterans effectively sold themselves to Zod. He had them transferred to Texas, where his sprawling 3,000-acre ranch had been converted into a secret base. The land was lush and green, in stark contrast to the dry Texan landscape around it.
As the veterans arrived at the ranch, they were confused. They had expected a high-tech facility, not a simple villa with wide, grassy fields.
"Is this supposed to be a secret base?" one of them muttered. "It just looks like a regular ranch."
Zod didn't respond to the skepticism. "Follow me."
He led them inside the villa, where they descended to a hidden underground facility. Zod had expanded the basement himself, using his thermal vision to melt through the earth and create a vast, high-tech laboratory. The space was filled with advanced machinery and equipment, far more sophisticated than anything the veterans had ever seen. Even those who had served in classified operations were impressed by the state-of-the-art setup.
Zod turned to the veterans. "You're about to witness real power. Soldier, demonstrate."
At his command, a man stepped forward—none other than the first subject of Zod's transformation, the Crocodile Man. Normally, he appeared human, but after receiving Zod's serum, his frail body had bulked up into a muscular powerhouse.
"Watch closely," Zod said.
With a grunt, the man began to transform. His muscles swelled, his skin darkened, and within moments, he had turned into a towering creature over two meters tall. His body was now covered in dark green scales, his mouth filled with sharp fangs. He was no longer human, but a monstrous fusion of man and crocodile.
The veterans were stunned.
"I can give you more than just your health back," Zod said. "I can give you strength."
He gestured to a barbell in the corner, loaded with 500 kilograms—an impossible weight for any normal human to lift. The Crocodile Man casually approached it, wrapped one clawed hand around the bar, and hoisted it into the air with ease. The solid steel barbell bent under the weight, and the veterans stared in awe.
When the Crocodile Man dropped the barbell, the floor shook with a loud crash. The veterans, who had been hesitant moments earlier, now had a glimmer of hope in their eyes. They had all experienced the bitterness of weakness, and now, for the first time, they saw a way out.
"Here's the catch," Zod continued. "The serum you'll receive contains a genetic toxin—something I've developed myself. If you don't receive regular doses of the antidote, your body will collapse, and you'll die. No remains. If you have any second thoughts, now's the time to speak up. I can erase your memory, and you'll walk away none the wiser."
The veterans hesitated, but not one of them backed down. They had lived too long with their disabilities, too long under the weight of pitying or disdainful stares.
One of the soldiers, a tall Black man missing both arms, spoke up. "Boss, I've got a request."
"Go ahead," Zod replied.
"I don't want to be some lizard or crocodile. I want to be a lion—the king of beasts."
Another soldier chimed in. "I want to be an insect. Insects are freakin' powerful!"
The veterans murmured in agreement. The idea of turning into a crocodile wasn't appealing to all of them.
Zod shrugged. "From a scientific standpoint, reptiles and arthropods are more durable and have better regenerative abilities than mammals. But if you want to be a lion or tiger, I'll allow it."
Another question came from the group. "Boss, what's our organization called?"
Zod paused for a moment before answering. "World Serpent."
"I like that," the Black soldier said, a grin spreading across his face.
Soon, ninety veterans lay on operating tables, preparing for their transformation. Zod knew the serum would affect their emotions and thought processes, enhancing their animalistic tendencies. Once the process was complete, the room filled with hulking, beast-like creatures—some with fur, others with scales or insect-like exoskeletons.
The newly transformed soldiers eyed Zod warily, unsure of their place in this new world. The Crocodile Man stood in front of them, ready for action.
"I think it's time for a little test," Zod said, cracking his knuckles.
Without warning, one of the soldiers—a Rhino Man, covered in thick gray skin and a massive horn—charged at Zod with incredible speed. His immense strength would have easily overturned a tank, but Zod caught the soldier's horn with one hand, effortlessly lifting him into the air. With a flick of his wrist, Zod hurled the Rhino Man across the room, crashing into several other soldiers and leaving a pile of injured creatures in his wake.
Zod dashed into the fray, his fists and feet a blur as he incapacitated the rest of the beast soldiers in minutes. Despite their new forms, none of them stood a chance.
Afterward, Zod stood alone, surrounded by groaning, battered soldiers. He dusted off his hands and stretched his muscles.
"Are you all awake now?" he asked, his voice calm.
The soldiers slowly rose to their feet, the lesson clear—Zod's power was absolute.