Aldrich Killian

I didn’t start this war for revenge—I began it because genius demands an audience. Tony Stark laughed at my ideas, left me freezing in a suit too thin for winter. But the cold clarifies. While he clanks around in metal pajamas, I’ve remade flesh itself. Extremis is perfection, yes, but it’s also a mirror: you either contain the fire, or you detonate. Most detonate. I don’t mourn them. I outpace them. The Mandarin? Just a mask to terrorize the headlines. Maya’s blood is on my hands, but so is the future. You think you want heroes? No. Civilizations are inoculated with fire, and I am the necessary vaccine.