Super Template System In Marvel and Beyond

Shuri responded, "At best? One per year—if they're lucky. Maybe less. The process needs perfect synchronization between biomechanical implants and enhanced cellular regeneration. And that's not something any ordinary lab can do."

She paused, then added, "And here's the worrying part… the neural reconditioning process—what actually makes them obedient—can't be done by machines alone. That part requires someone with deep psychological expertise and total control of the subject's body and mind."

Bruce's brow furrowed. "So whoever did this… they're not just a technician. They're a specialist."

Shuri nodded. "More than that. They're an architect. Someone who knows how to blend biotech and behavior control at a clinical level."

Fury narrowed his eyes. "Then we're not just dealing with a lab. We're dealing with a factory—one that's still learning… and improving."

Fury turned to Natasha. His expression was stone-cold serious.

"Step one is finding the lab. Or whatever it is."

Natasha nodded, already bringing up her tactical tablet. "If they rebuilt Bucky, there's gotta be a trail. Medical shipments, prosthetic tech, black-market cybernetics—we can triangulate."

Fury leaned over her shoulder. "Start with any flagged shipments of high-density memory alloys and synthetic nerve fiber. Nobody assembles that kind of material without triggering at least one of our eyes."

Bruce added, "And I'll cross-check global medical data. If they're building more like Bucky, we'll see patterns—rapid muscle gain, sudden neurological upgrades, anomalies in black market organ trafficking. Something'll pop."

Shuri joined in, "I'll sync Wakandan databases and run a scan for every instance of the biometric signature we pulled from Bucky. Even if they scrubbed the logs, we'll catch ghost signals."

Tony, meanwhile, had been unusually quiet. He finally spoke, his tone low.

"I'll run a sweep through my old tech logs—just in case someone jacked my designs for the cybernetic framework."

Dave stood beside the containment pod, arms crossed. His voice came calm, but firm.

"And I'll handle the ground part. Once we find where this place is, I'll go in first."

Fury gave him a look. "We all go in, Dave. If there's a lab turning soldiers into weapons, it's not just your fight or your UNITY fight. It's everyone's."

Dave didn't argue. He just nodded once.

Natasha closed her tablet. "Then I will be going out first" She said and left and after some more info. exchange Fury left too.

Dave, meanwhile, dropped onto one of the sleek lounge sofas off to the side of the operations deck, letting out a tired exhale.

"Just tell me when it's time to go and wreck," he said flatly.

A maid stepped in—quiet and professional—and placed a crystal glass of dark, expensive-looking spirit on the table beside him. He reached for it with one hand, eyes never leaving the screen of the phone he now scrolled through lazily.

As the others dispersed one by one, the Unity Tower command floor fell into a strange quiet.

Fury had left with Natasha to coordinate the search, tension still clinging to his shoulders like armor. Shuri returned to her lab to begin a full trace of the cybernetic signature they'd found in Bucky's system, while Tony retreated to a corner console, muttering to Jarvis about encryption traces and blacklisted tech IDs.

Dave sipped the drink.

One post caught his eye: a stolen satellite image of what looked like a crumbled mountain facility in northern Siberia. Heat blooms and structural scans showed signs of energy discharge—but nothing conclusive.

He bookmarked it. Quietly.

Behind him, soft footfalls approached—Steve.

He came and sat beside Dave, pouring himself a drink as well.

"How's it going?" Dave asked, putting his phone aside.

Steve sighed, his shoulders heavy. "He needs time. He's shaken… and confused."

He paused for a moment, then leaned slightly closer and spoke quietly.

"Bucky told me… under the control, he—he killed Tony's parents."

The words hung in the air.

But before Steve could say more, Tony appeared behind them, suddenly—his tech humming faintly, eyes burning with fury.

"What did you just say?" Tony asked, his voice low but filled with rage.

He took a step forward. His hand was already halfway raised, energy building in his gauntlet—just inches from Steve's throat.

"Relax, Tony," Dave said calmly, stepping between them. "The one who killed your parents wasn't Bucky. It was whoever was controlling him."

Tony's jaw tightened, eyes locked on Steve, fists still clenched.

"He pulled the trigger, Dave."

"And he wasn't free when he did," Steve replied steadily. "You know it. You've always known it."

Tony stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, his hand lowered.

He turned away, muttering, "Doesn't make it hurt less."

"No," Steve said quietly. "It doesn't."

Dave exhaled, taking another sip of his drink. "But whoever was behind that control… they're still out there. And this time, they're not just making assassins. They're making armies."

"Don't worry," Tony said, his voice cold, steady. "This time… I'll be a thousand times Better. Smarter. Deadlier. After all its now personal"

He turned and walked off, heading into his private office, the door sliding shut behind him with a mechanical hiss.

Dave let out a low breath, shaking his head slightly. "Poor guy," he muttered. "You can only imagine what Tony must've felt."

He glanced sideways at Steve.

"Are you even sure you're in the right mind here, Steve? You knew what Bucky did. Did you really think hiding it would help anything? That sparing Tony's feelings was gonna save your friendship?"

Steve stood silently for a moment, jaw tense.

"I forgot," Steve said finally, voice low. "Forgot what Tony had become. That under all his sarcasm and showmanship… he's now one of Earth's strongest protectors."

"And whispering the truth wouldn't help," he added bitterly. "Or maybe… I just didn't have the courage to tell him to his face."

He sighed, torn. "On one side, there's my long-lost friend—more like a brother—and on the other, a new one I may be losing."

Dave didn't reply right away.

He leaned back on the sofa, arms folded, eyes fixed on the closed office door.

"Let's hope he uses that anger to build… not to burn."

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