I leaned back against the couch, closed my eyes, and braced for a series of painful but necessary neural downloads. I'd work in descending order, from general to specific. First up: the NE-mage information package. Essentially, this was the accumulated knowledge base of every key scientific discipline humanity had built up over hundreds of years, up to the twenty-first century. It was the foundation that would make working with Peter infinitely easier and keep me from feeling inadequate next to the other geniuses in this world.
System window. Technology tab. Unlock for 400 OP.
Fortunately, I didn't black out. The headache was there, but tolerable, like someone trying to cram the entire Encyclopedia Britannica into my skull through my optic nerve, one page at a time. It was like having a migraine during a strong magnetic storm while simultaneously solving integral equations. My head hummed from the overload. Either the NZT was acting as a neural coolant and smoothing the side effects, or the impersonal, fundamental nature of this knowledge meant it was supposed to feel like this. Either way, I was relieved it had gone relatively smoothly.
The next information package: "Individual Armament - XCOM Philosophy."
Again, the technology tab. Unlock for 200 OP.
The effect was different. Not voluminous, but sharp. My head was pierced by a short, surgically precise pain, like a needle being driven into my brain and twisted. The next second, I felt uncomfortable. My ordinary T-shirt and loose sweatpants weren't clothing anymore; they were a set of vulnerabilities. The materials didn't breathe; they trapped sweat. Sweat meant extra odor. Extra odor meant attracting attention. My sneakers were tight and suffocating. The poor ergonomics drained my endurance. That bright logo on my chest was a target. Everything should be comfortable, practical, non-restrictive, and faceless. Everything that attracted attention needed to be eliminated.
"Stop that!" I snapped at myself. Here, deep in the protected base, nothing threatened me. I'd still have time to reshape my wardrobe and habits to align with this newly formed paranoid worldview.
With effort, I calmed my suddenly awakened inner tactician. I held my breath and shifted my gaze to the next item, the most desired and most frightening. The improved Extremis recipe. Honestly, it terrified me to unlock it. This was, damn it, a super-soldier serum. What if it actually worked? Would I risk it? What if the formula was good but not ideal, and refinement could take months or even years, even with Peter's genius and my knowledge?
Okay. I'd decide as I went. Strength was a tool, and I was supposedly an engineer.
Unlock. Minus 500 OP!
This time, my head didn't just sting. The back of my skull felt like it had been struck with a white-hot poker. For a moment, fractals of double helices and nanorobot diagrams flashed before my eyes. With bated breath, I began analyzing the flood of information crashing over me.
Well... This... this was truly the pinnacle of bioengineering. A project at the intersection of virology, genetics, and nanotechnology. The Holy Grail of transhumanism. The process was incredibly complex, requiring unique reagents, equipment far more advanced than what I had, and the deepest understanding of the mechanisms involved. But it was entirely feasible.
A couple of days of hellish work, and I would end up with a unique virus-vector that would rewrite cellular DNA, integrating genes for extreme thermal resistance and accelerated regeneration. But the virus was only half the equation. The second half was bioelectric nanites: programmable nanomachines that integrated with the nervous system and created a new "interface" between the brain and modified cells.
As a result, the user gained the ability to consciously control thermogenesis. The nanites intercepted neural signals and transmitted commands to the cells to "heat" or "cool down." That was the key. Stability. The brain and body began working in symbiosis with the virus, not fighting it. No random overheating or explosions.
Yes, this wasn't just serum. It was a stable, controllable techno-organic platform for total human modification, an order of magnitude better and safer than the original unstable formula. And yet... Extremis truly equipped its bearer with an entire suite of interconnected enhancements. This wasn't just regeneration and thermogenesis. It encompassed bone density, muscle fiber elasticity, neural signal speed, and metabolic efficiency. A complete system upgrade, turning a human into a full-fledged superhuman.
The technical data in my head began giving way to something more intuitive: a user manual for my own potential evolution. A list of abilities, each one more staggering than the last.
Superhuman strength. This wasn't just muscle growth, but a complete restructuring of the muscular system at the cellular level. The virus rewrote the genes responsible for producing myostatin, a protein that acts like a strict regulator, suppressing muscle tissue growth. By "turning off" this genetic limiter, Extremis triggered explosive growth in muscle fibers, making them not only larger but significantly denser. In addition, the virus improved mitochondrial function, turning each cell into a more efficient powerhouse. The result? The ability to lift between two and five tons. Strength sufficient to punch through brick walls and bend steel beams like they were cardboard. No, not Hulk-level, but far beyond peak human capability. By these metrics, Black Widow was like a three-year-old next to an adult. This was a completely different order of power.
Superhuman speed and reflexes. Obviously, brute force was nothing without speed. Here, the bioelectric nanites played a key role. They not only served as an "interface" for controlling heat but also optimized the entire nervous system. It was like upgrading a biological computer. The nanites wrapped nerve fibers in an additional synthetic myelin sheath, essentially like adding better insulation to electrical wiring. This allowed nerve impulses to travel at speeds five to ten times faster than human baseline. In the synapses, the nanites acted as catalysts, accelerating chemical reactions. The result? Practically instantaneous reaction time. I could literally dodge bullets if I saw the shooter. The world would slow to a frozen tableau at will, one through which I could move. Over short distances, my running speed could hit fifty to sixty miles an hour.
Superhuman endurance and resilience. A direct consequence of the two previous improvements. Extremis altered muscle cells to produce significantly less lactic acid and, even more ingeniously, recycled it into additional energy, turning the poison of fatigue into fuel. Additionally, constant micro-regeneration made all tissues, bones, muscles, and skin denser and stronger. I would be able to fight at peak capability for several hours without the slightest sign of fatigue. My body would become capable of withstanding blows that would break bones or kill an ordinary person.
Regeneration: Biological Phoenix. This wasn't just accelerated healing. This was full body reassembly at the cellular level. Minor wounds, like cuts and bruises, would heal in seconds, leaving behind only a light, warm glow that quickly faded. Bullet wounds would heal in two to five minutes. But the most amazing thing was lost limbs. They could completely regenerate in fifteen to twenty minutes. The process, as I envisioned it, looked creepy and fascinating at the same time. At the wound site, tissues first charred and turned to ash, from which new, perfect flesh would form like molten wax. Effectively, the user could survive almost any physical damage, including through-and-through wounds to vital organs. The heart, lungs, even part of the brain, all of this could be restored. Complete immunity to all known diseases and toxins was just the cherry on top.
Thermogenesis: Pocket Star. And finally, the crown of creation. The ability to generate extreme heat, the most powerful weapon, something even more impressive than super-strength. I would be able to heat any part of my body to approximately three thousand degrees Celsius. This was enough to melt steel, concrete, and practically any known material. I would be able to concentrate heat in my palms, creating the effect of a plasma cutter, or release it as an omnidirectional thermal wave. Thanks to the nanites, temperature control was absolute and precise, from a gentle warmth sufficient to dry clothes to maximum combat power capable of incinerating armored vehicles.
This wasn't just a recipe. This was literally the blueprint of a demigod. And now it was in my head, waiting for me to work up the courage to build it.
Perfect? On paper, definitely. But the engineer in me quickly silenced the enthusiasm of the aspiring-to-divinity dropout. Every perfect system has a vulnerability. Extremis had three, and each was frightening in its own way.
First, the metabolic feedback loop, or more simply, energy burnout. Super-regeneration and thermogenesis were not magic. This was physics, requiring a colossal amount of energy that the virus drew directly from the host's cellular metabolism. Under normal use, this was unnoticeable. But after a serious injury or prolonged peak-power use of thermogenesis, I risked metabolic shock. My body would instantly burn through all glycogen and fat reserves, then, in a desperate attempt to sustain itself, begin devouring my own muscle tissue. Most likely, I'd simply slip into a hypoglycemic coma. But if I stayed conscious, I'd be absolutely helpless, weak and shaking uncontrollably. This was the devil's bargain: the power of a star, but the engine ran on your own flesh. Full recovery from such a "burnout" might take hours and require absorbing tens of thousands of calories. However, this was a red line that took serious effort to cross.
The second weakness I liked far less, especially as an engineer, was nano-interface vulnerability. The nanites were complex microelectronics, which meant they were vulnerable to the same things as any other electronics. A powerful, focused EMP pulse could temporarily "blind" or completely "burn" them. But scarier still was the thought that some elite hacker in this world could theoretically write a digital virus that would intercept control of the nanites via radio signal. That thought made my blood run cold. I imagined someone like Doom or Reed Richards gaining access to my nervous system. At best, losing control meant losing the ability to regulate thermogenesis, causing Extremis to "roll back" to an unstable, dangerous version. At worst, an enemy could force my body to overheat, turning me into a walking plasma bomb, or conversely, block regeneration at a critical moment. My greatest strength would become my executioner. No one could know about this vulnerability. This backdoor had to be sealed. I needed to modify the nanites, create an impenetrable firewall. This was definitely my personal top priority, item number one on the refinement list.
The third weakness was the most mundane and therefore the most annoying. It didn't concern Extremis itself, but the necessary equipment and reagents. By rough estimates, this would cost millions of dollars. There wouldn't be enough space in the lab; some equipment would have to go in the hub. Ask Blade for money again? He had already given me an entire kingdom. Asking him to furnish the throne room too would be the height of audacity.
But even with money, one key reagent was still out of reach, and acquiring it would be extremely difficult. A second one would have to be synthesized by myself under nearly impossible conditions. Fine, plans needed to change, and fast. The idea of hitting a casino while on NZT, which had crossed my mind earlier, was tempting but stupid. A showdown with the gambling mafia was the last thing I needed right now. So, it was time to patent "Proteus" and earn as much money as possible in the shortest possible time.
The patent wasn't just about the money. It was primarily a strategic move. I needed it to establish certain connections and to serve as insurance for Peter and me. I'd become too valuable an asset to certain people to simply be eliminated. Of course, I was conveniently ignoring the fact that I'd also become a thorn in the side of others. But those were risks I'd have to accept. The main thing was to actually create Extremis before my enemies made their move. Ideally, SHIELD would reach out and offer me a contract and protection. Considering our screw-up with Fisk, that was more than realistic, but...
"Yo, daddy's in the building!" Blade called out cheerfully.
The heavy elevator doors hissed open, and the vampire hunter stepped out into the hub, interrupting my intense planning session. I actually flinched in surprise.
"What's up? How's the science going?"
"Can't complain. Science is moving, but it could be better," I said, greeting the dhampir. "By the way, there are two pieces of news: bad and very bad. Which one should I start with?"
"I hope this isn't about the healing potions?" he asked immediately. When I shook my head no, he exhaled in visible relief.
"Then let's start with the bad. I'll save the very bad for dessert."
"Fisk is most likely alive." At that, his previously relaxed face went rigid.
He was silent for a second, then a sinister grin spread across his lips.
"You think so too?"
"Yes... Everything went too smoothly. Plus, I know for sure that there are metas capable of transforming into other people. I wouldn't be surprised if Fisk had someone like that on his payroll. And the capital in his fund... it's already starting to recover."
"Makes sense." Blade nodded, his grin becoming even wider and more predatory. "But this is even better. Frank will deal with this bastard himself. For real. What's the second piece of news?"
"A hunt for me and Gwen will most likely start soon, if it hasn't already."
"No, Fisk is unlikely to want to mess with me again, or you... Damn, you're right." He slapped his forehead. "Fucking spooks. Everything gets leaked, analyzed, and regurgitated until eventually they either leave useful assets alone or try to suck them into their games."
"Yeah... Gwen can still theoretically be left alone. I don't think her identity was a secret to them before this. But me... I'm something new and unknown."
"Well, hang in there, kid. You're not stupid, and now you have a cool base and lab. I think you'll manage." Then the dhampir finally noticed Peter, who had been silently analyzing our dialogue. "By the way, I'm Eric. To my people, I'm known as Eric. Or Blade."
"I'm Peter Parker," Peter said, shaking the powerful hand extended to him. "A colleague and friend of John's. But... can you explain what's going on at all? What do Gwen Stacy and the dead Wilson Fisk have to do with this? And what hunt by the agencies?"
"Long story," I sighed. "I'll tell you later. Now Eric needs to tend to his healing duties, and we need to do ours."
"Oh, you seemed to mention something about 'Proteus'?" Peter immediately perked up, trying to latch onto something familiar in this madness.
Yes, it will be.
But this will take a lot of time, and it's already getting late and...
"Yeah, we'll handle this problem first," I said, handing Eric two vials of potion and briefly explaining how to use them: he would personally administer the vial to Frank and use his mental abilities to compel Uncle Ben to drive home and drink it there. "But the bigger problem is the laser sight on my forehead."
"Don't worry about it," Blade encouraged me, patting my shoulder. "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. And intelligence agencies don't kill outright; they try to use you first. So you'll get out. Alright, I'm out of here. I'll probably be back tomorrow. See ya."
And then he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and with Peter, who, judging by his expression, had plenty on his mind.
"Am I... also at risk?" he asked carefully when the elevator doors closed.
"You possess unique knowledge and you're my closest associate. So anything's possible," I answered with a sigh. "But in principle, if you lay low for now, there's a chance they won't touch you. The important thing is: stick with me and everything will be fine. I hope."
"You certainly don't lack confidence. But okay, I'm not one to jump ship at the first sign of trouble," Peter said firmly. "Tell me, what kind of adventure did you have? I understand Gwen was there too? She said she wants to come back to the lab starting tomorrow, by the way. Is this because of you? And how will you solve the problem that it's late now and..." At that point, Peter yawned, and it was contagious.
I sat down on the couch, ignoring his questions. Fatigue was holding us back. Time to fix that. Opening the technology tab, I spent the last 300 OP on the fatigue pill recipe.
Huh, this will be easier than I thought, I muttered, getting up from the couch after a few seconds. A simple and elegant formula blossomed in my mind. "Let's go, Peter. Let me tell you about Wilson Fisk first; we will fight the very concept of fatigue. Because while we sleep, draugr levels up, and we need to be stronger than the draugr!"
//=================//