"Keep them under surveillance," Dr. Genus said, not looking up from the test tube in his hand. The final debugging sequence completed with a soft chime. "If the intruder breaches the surface defenses, deploy combat troops. Drive them out."
The real House of Evolution base sprawled beneath his feet—eight underground levels of cutting-edge research facilities. The building above was nothing more than an elaborate decoy, each floor rigged with traps and mechanical countermeasures designed to shred anything foolish enough to enter.
Even if someone managed to survive that gauntlet, they'd find genetically-enhanced soldiers waiting. Decades of biological research distilled into living weapons.
Dr. Genus set down the test tube, adjusting his glasses. He'd built something beautiful here. Something revolutionary. The path to human evolution made manifest.
He'd heard through underground channels that the Hero Association had started acquiring active monster cells—though supply was extremely limited. Heroes tended to pulverize their opponents. Wolf-level monsters occasionally surrendered, but finding intact biological samples in the aftermath of most fights was... challenging.
Not that it mattered much. Dr. Genus had obtained several samples for comparative analysis, but the mutation patterns were too unstable, too random. Not the elegant evolutionary framework he'd envisioned.
The genetic material currently held more interest for his clone research than his primary project.
Dr. Genus caught his reflection in the polished steel of the containment unit. Early twenties, peak physical condition—not bad for someone over seventy years old.
The cell-revitalization serum he'd developed using his own genetic profile had essentially reversed his aging process. A technological fountain of youth, really. Nothing mystical about it—just proper application of genomic science once the underlying mechanisms were understood.
Some called him an evil genius scientist.
Fifty years ago, they'd just called him a genius.
Back then, his contributions to humanity had earned him awards, accolades, patents beyond counting. But his vision had outpaced his colleagues' comprehension. The scientific establishment that once celebrated him began to turn away, unwilling to pursue the necessary research.
So he'd pursued it alone.
The nickname "evil" came later, after he'd started acquiring... less conventional test subjects.
"Report!" A clone's voice crackled through the intercom. "Analysis complete!"
Another screen flickered to life, displaying Clone 81's face—the number emblazoned across his chest in neat digits.
"The target is an S-Class Hero from the Hero Association," Clone 81 announced. "Ranked second. Designation: 'Super Cop.'"
Dr. Genus's hand froze on his glasses.
S-Class. And not just any S-Class—number two in the rankings.
Data indicated that S-Class heroes represented the pinnacle of human combat potential. Even with all his enhancements, Dr. Genus wouldn't claim certain victory against one.
And this was the second highest ranked.
More importantly, this underground facility contained fifty years of research. Irreplaceable work. If that hero breached the defenses and caused catastrophic damage—
"Can you determine intent?" Dr. Genus asked. "Is he specifically targeting us, or just passing through?"
"Uh..." Clone 81 hesitated. "He just landed on the surface building's roof."
Dr. Genus said nothing.
Well. That answered that question.
"The Hero Association typically doesn't send heroes for diplomatic contact," he muttered, thinking aloud. "Alert the combat troops to prepare. I'm heading to the control room. I need to see what he wants."
Hundreds of kilometers from Z-City, mountain ranges stretched across the wilderness—untamed forest as far as the eye could see.
Blue light flashed.
Jordan materialized in midair, teleportation completing smoothly. He'd used the coordinates Lanny provided, and now he scanned the landscape below.
Mostly primeval forest. The kind of terrain that dominated the spaces between human cities, where monsters roamed freely.
But there—nestled deep in the mountains—sat something distinctly out of place.
An eight-story building jutted from the mountainside, its concrete walls covered in green moss. Square foundation, square structure, brutally simple architecture. The only apparent entrance was a glass door at ground level.
It looked more like a forgotten industrial warehouse than a research facility.
Jordan knew better.
Anyone who'd watched the anime understood the truth: the real House of Evolution was entirely underground. The building above was pure misdirection, designed to lure enemies into a killing field of traps and biological horrors.
In the original timeline, Dr. Genus had the misfortune of facing the walking natural disaster known as Genos. The budget warrior's "Incineration Cannon" had vaporized the entire elaborate trap system in a single blast.
But Jordan wasn't here to demolish anything.
He was here to negotiate.
No need for the Genos approach—blow everything up first, ask questions never.
Time for professionalism.
He descended toward the rooftop, spotting a surveillance camera mounted in the corner. Perfect.
His feet touched down with a soft thud. Jordan walked over to the camera, gripped it with one hand, and rotated it until the lens faced him directly.
Then he leaned in close and tapped the camera housing with one finger.
"Hello—is anyone inside?"
House of Evolution – Control Room
Dr. Genus stepped through the reinforced door into the monitoring hub.
Screens covered every wall, displaying feeds from dozens of cameras throughout the facility. Clones manned the various stations, tracking environmental conditions, security systems, ongoing experiments.
Clone 28 glanced up as he entered. "Doctor, the—"
Dr. Genus's attention locked onto the main display screen.
A face filled the entire monitor. So close to the camera that the wide-angle lens distorted the features into something resembling a funhouse mirror reflection—angular jawline stretched too wide, blue eyes slightly fish-eyed, dark hair warping at the edges.
It would have been comical if not for the casual confidence in that distorted gaze.
Dr. Genus stared.
The clones stared.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
"...Are you certain," Dr. Genus said slowly, "that this person is actually an S-Class hero? Ranked second in the Hero Association's combat hierarchy?"
He pointed at the screen where the Super Cop's face was currently squished against the camera like a curious child peering into an aquarium.
This was supposed to be humanity's apex predator?
Clone 28 flipped open a copy of The Complete Guide to Professional Heroes—latest edition, still had that new book smell—and cross-referenced the data.
"Information confirmed, Doctor. S-Class Rank 2: Super Cop. All identifiers match."
On screen, the distorted face pulled back slightly. Jordan Evans's voice came through the audio feed, tinny but clear:
"Hey—if you don't say something, I'm coming in!"
A pause.
Then, almost conversational: "Don't say I didn't give you fair warning, Dr. Genus."