44
"Fight fatigue?" Peter asked with genuine interest, following me to the lab bench.
"Not just fight it. We'll cancel it." I grinned. "We'll create miracle support pills that solve the three main problems causing fatigue and allow the body and brain to work at peak efficiency for extended periods."
"Adenosine, neurotransmitter depletion, and mitochondrial dysfunction," Peter immediately muttered, showing why he was a genius. He had correctly identified the three horsemen of the apocalypse for anyone trying to work longer than prescribed.
"Exactly!" I snapped my fingers. "Adenosine, which accumulates in the brain throughout the day and causes drowsiness. Depletion of dopamine, norepinephrine, and acetylcholine reserves, which are responsible for attention and motivation. And basic physical fatigue occurs when mitochondria stop efficiently producing ATP energy."
"Pharmaceutical companies around the world have been trying to make something like this for decades," Peter grumbled. "And for some reason, I suspect your recipe isn't just an improved version of caffeine..."
"Caffeine is like building a dam against a rising river of adenosine." I waved it off. "It temporarily blocks receptors, but the adenosine itself doesn't go anywhere and just keeps accumulating. Then the dam breaks, and you get hit by a wave of fatigue all at once. This isn't our way, Peter."
"Ha, thanks for explaining what's already obvious." He grinned. "But if you really manage to create these miracle pills... John, this will open incredible opportunities for us."
"I can. It's all relatively simple, and everything we need is available in the lab. But there's a nuance: this isn't a full replacement for sleep. Sleep isn't just rest. The pill doesn't affect several processes: memory consolidation, removal of metabolic toxins, receptor restoration. After seventy-two hours without sleep, these side effects will accumulate to a critical level. So the limit for staying awake on the pills is three days."
Three days?! Peter's eyes widened. "John, the most advanced military stimulants last thirty-six hours, after which you start seeing shadow people. Seventy-two hours of peak cognitive function isn't a stimulant. This is a temporary rewriting of the rules of human biology. Don't drag this out; tell me the recipe."
Running through the components in my head, I began my explanation.
"The key idea is molecularly imprinted graphene. Simply put, we're creating artificial 'casts' or 'pockets' on the surface of graphene nanoparticles, shaped and chemically tuned to fit adenosine molecules perfectly. Once they reach the brain, these nanoparticles act as passive molecular traps."
"Wow..." Peter breathed. "So this isn't a chemical reaction but physical adsorption. Like activated carbon absorbing toxins, only at the nanoscale and with surgical precision."
I nodded.
"The next components are simpler: neurotransmitter precursors like L-tyrosine and Alpha-GPC, widely available legal nootropics. Plus a creatine triphosphate complex for mitochondrial support, which we can synthesize easily. And auxiliary substances for the formulation."
"Now I see why seventy-two hours!" Peter realized. "All the 'pockets' on the nanoparticle surface will simply fill up with adenosine molecules. They'll become 'saturated' and stop working. The body needs time to naturally filter and eliminate them. Elegant."
"Exactly," I agreed, pulling on my lab coat and gloves. "And now, to practice."
Like my other projects, I broke this one into stages. Stage one: synthesis of graphene oxide. I switched on the fume hood, and Peter and I approached the glass reactor with its magnetic stirrer.
"So, while this reaction runs its course, we have a couple of hours," I said, pouring ordinary graphite powder into the reactor. "Perfect time to tell you where I disappeared to last night."
Under the steady hum of the stirrer and the hiss of chemicals, I began my story. About Blade. About Fisk, who was Kingpin. About the Empire State Building. Peter listened, his eyes growing wider. He paled when I mentioned Gwen and how she'd fought Fisk's other meta-mercenaries. His jaw practically dropped when I described the EMP gun.
"So you can better understand what we're dealing with..." I said. To illustrate, I reached into the empty space beside the workbench and pulled the EMP gun I'd mentioned from my inventory, setting it on the table.
Peter recoiled. His scientific brain momentarily malfunctioned, trying to process what he'd just seen.
"This... what... how..."
"A spatial-type ability. I can store items in a small pocket dimension," I explained simply.
By the time I finished my story and answered a dozen questions from the stunned Peter, the first phase had been completed. Having mixed the graphite with acids and potassium permanganate in the reactor, I obtained a thick, dark brown suspension. After washing and separation in the centrifuge, it became pure graphene oxide.
"And now," I said, placing the flask with the result on the table, "the most interesting part: molecular imprinting."
Without exaggeration, it was the most ingenious stage, and considering the recently downloaded NE-mage knowledge package, I understood just how much there was to it. As I started the second phase, I felt a surge of confidence.
At this stage, I first mixed the graphene oxide suspension with a template molecule. In our case, caffeine, which is structurally very similar to adenosine but cheap and readily available. Then I added a liquid polymer precursor, a combination of methacrylic acid and ethylene glycol dimethacrylate. This polymer, biocompatible and widely used in medicine, was to become our "clay" for molding.
After mixing, I treated the mixture with ultrasound in the sonicator so that the template molecules of caffeine would be evenly distributed on the surface of the graphene sheets. Then, adding an initiator, I initiated the polymerization reaction. The polymer began growing on the graphene surface like bark, enveloping the template molecules and creating strong nanoscale "casts" around them. All that remained was to use a solvent and multiple washings in the centrifuge to wash away the template molecules. As a result, empty cavities remained on the graphene surface, ideally suited for capturing adenosine.
The third and final stage was already routine. I dried the molecularly imprinted graphene, or MIG, in the vacuum oven into a fine black powder. Under the electron microscope, I verified the perfect structure of the nanoparticles. Meanwhile, Peter, following my instructions, synthesized the creatine triphosphate complex. In the end, I simply mixed all the powder components, MIG, nootropics, creatine, and fillers, in the planetary mixer until they reached ideal homogeneity. I loaded the finished mixture into the tablet press. Click, click, click. Everything was ready.
I held in my hand a small, gray, unremarkable tablet. A breakthrough drug created practically without outside help and, most importantly, without using the rarest components. Was this not a reason for pride?
[Created medicine "Fatigue Pill." Complexity: Normal. Received +200 OP!]
A pill that suppresses fatigue. Maintains the body and mind at peak performance, allowing hours of maintaining maximum concentration and energy without sleep.
[Created medicine "Fatigue Pill." Complexity: Normal. Received +150 OP!]
...
[Created medicine "Fatigue Pill." Complexity: Normal. Received +10 OP!]
From the several dozen tablets, I'd received a total of 750 OP. The earnings cap for them was exhausted, but who cared? I'd recouped my costs and even ended up ahead. Without thinking, I swallowed one tablet, washing it down with water, and held out a second to Peter.
He looked at it doubtfully, but then shrugged and swallowed it too. Several seconds passed. Then... the effect hit. It was like a veil falling from my eyes. The fatigue accumulated over the crazy day didn't just dull. It disappeared. It evaporated. My thoughts became crystal clear, and my body filled with steady, calm energy.
"Wow..." Peter exhaled. "This... it's like my brain just rebooted."
"Welcome to productivity 2.0," I grinned. "And now, while we're both at our peak, let's work on the suit for Blade."
Good thing I already had the measurements and the improved design philosophy.
"Look, here's the problem," I said, pulling up a 3D model of a mannequin on the lab computer screen to bring Peter up to speed. "A standard Proteus suit for a superhuman like Eric or Gwen would end up more like a prison. Imagine a sharp jerk or strike. The fabric at the joints, around the elbows, knees, and shoulders, instantly hardens. For a fraction of a second, the fighter turns into a clumsy statue. And their life may depend on those moments."
"I've thought about this too," Peter said, nodding seriously. "A one-piece suit won't work. We need a system that separates protection and articulation."
"Exactly. So the suit for Eric shouldn't just be armor; it should be a high-tech combat system. The solution lies in thoughtful modularity and a hybrid approach."
"At a minimum, we need to ensure maximum protection for vital zones with solid Proteus panels," Peter said, thinking out loud. "And for the joints... to preserve mobility... can we use something like floating hinges? Segmented protection?"
"Hmm, good thought!" I seized on the idea. "A knee pad made not from a solid piece, but from three or four narrow strips of 'Proteus' overlapped and sewn onto a strong elastic base. When Eric bends his leg, they slide freely over one another without restricting movement."
"Yes! And when a bullet hits the joint, only the specific strip that takes the impact hardens!" Peter exclaimed enthusiastically. "The rest stay flexible. The joint doesn't lock up completely, and the shockwave still gets distributed effectively across the entire segment. This is genius."
"Excellent. Then let's settle on this laminar armor concept," I said, nodding as a surge of creative energy hit me. "I have the measurements. Let's get to work."
Fueled by fresh clarity and sudden energy, Peter and I began modeling. I sat down at the lab computer and adjusted the standard human model I'd shown earlier to match Blade's exact parameters. Then, consulting with Peter throughout, I began mapping onto the digital avatar the precise placement of each protective panel.
"Center mass - chest and back - with solid plates," I said, positioning the large panels on the model.
"Correct, but the abdomen needs to be segmented," Peter cut in immediately. "Three horizontal strips, like a lobster. Otherwise, he won't be able to bend properly."
We worked like a single, seamless mechanism. Next, I created 3D models of "floating" hinges for the elbows and knees, calculating with jeweler's precision the ideal size and overlap of the narrow plates. Then it was time for the katana.
"Not just a belt," I said, removing the standard mount from the design. "A magnetic mounting panel with quick-release. No straps or buckles. Touch it, and the sword locks magnetically into place. A quick tug, and it's in your hand."
As the cherry on top, I added several reinforced polymer MOLLE straps to the belt and chest - a modern modular mounting system for all his anti-vampire arsenal.
For another twenty minutes or so, we rotated the model, making microscopic adjustments and achieving an ideal balance between brutal protection and predatory ergonomics. Finally, the design stage was officially complete. It was time to move from digital model to physical reality.
Our laboratory had become a high-tech workshop. Peter handled the base layer. On an industrial loom, he wove a seamless jumpsuit from a blend of aramid and elastane fibers. It would hug the body tightly, wick away moisture, and serve as the foundation for the armor. According to our shared design, the hood was an integral part of the suit, providing a seamless transition from torso to head while offering additional protection.
Meanwhile, beneath the deafening roar of the 5-axis CNC machine, I machined negative mold cavities for each panel from blocks of heat-resistant polymer. Then, working manually, I layered the "Proteus" fabric into these molds, impregnated it with polymer resin, and placed it under the heat press. A few minutes later, I held perfectly formed armor panels in my hands. They were rigid yet flexible.
I used the same method to create smaller plates for the joints. Then, having cut the backing from ballistic nylon, Peter and I used high-strength elastic straps to sew these plates onto it with a slight overlap. The flexible yet protected joints were ready.
The assembly stage began. Taking the jumpsuit base, I once again used the heat press and adhesive to secure the main armor plates. I reinforced the edges with additional stitching using heavy-duty thread for maximum durability. Peter carefully sewed the completed joint modules into their corresponding positions on the jumpsuit.
Next came the integration of the mounting hardware. We implanted a powerful electromagnetic lock in the left side of the belt. I secured the polymer straps to the suit using ultrasonic welding, fusing them molecularly with the base.
We created the gloves with knuckle protection and reinforced cuffs separately; they would integrate seamlessly with his combat boots. We also sewed a thin, flexible "Proteus" plate into the hood to protect the forehead and back of the head. The suit was ready. It was functional, but it lacked soul.
"It's too... clean," I said when we put the suit on the mannequin. "It'll reflect light. Blade is a night hunter. He needs shadows."
Then it hit us. After a brief discussion, we developed a special coating, a matte black-gray polymer paint mixed with ferrite microparticles to absorb radio waves and hollow ceramic microspheres to reduce thermal signature. Using a sprayer, we applied several layers. Now the suit was not only less visible to radar and thermal imagers, but it also made absolutely no sound during movement.
It was a light modular suit with durable panels of Proteus fabric protecting the vital zones. "Floating" hinges ensured full joint mobility, maintaining high protection without sacrificing agility.
The suit was ready. Perfectly fitted, deadly, and practically invulnerable. A true work of engineering artistry... which the system rated it at only 400 OP. Considering we'd spent the entire night on it and the sheer amount of work that had gone into it, that was a little disappointing.
Well, okay. It would be wrong to complain.
I looked at the mannequin dressed in our creation. I hadn't made this suit for the points, but so that Blade would have an easier time in his eternal war. And I thought our concept had succeeded completely.
"Oh, finally finished, lovebirds?"
Blade's mocking voice rang out. He was sitting on the couch in the hub, sipping something from a flask, when we left the laboratory. But that wasn't what caught my eye.
"Spill it. What were you two so busy creating all night that you didn't even notice me?"
"What's Frank doing here?"
I jerked my chin toward the man lying unconscious on the second couch, hooked up to an IV drip.
"Ah, this... Well, he's regenerating very quickly. Too quickly for an ordinary person. In a hospital, they'd start asking uncomfortable questions. The nurses were already gossiping. I decided to save everyone the paperwork and brought him here," Blade explained nonchalantly. "About ten hours left until full recovery. He'll lie here, come to his senses, and I'll have a chat with him. Don't worry."
"Okay."
Who cared that he'd kidnapped someone? We didn't need any extra scrutiny.
"Did everything go well with Uncle Ben?"
At this question, Peter held his breath.
"Yes, everything hunky-dory. I drove home for twenty-four straight hours. Given his diagnosis, that was fine. I made sure no one suspected anything. Yeah, and I also influenced his wife so she wouldn't notice his condition while he recovered rapidly. We'll just call it a miracle, or your friend will explain everything to them himself," Blade answered with a shrug.
"Yes... thank you very much!" Peter thanked us both. He didn't even object to Blade's mental magic.
"Well, Peter, as Eric says, we should stick together. As for what we were doing... Come on, let's show him." I waved my hand toward the laboratory.
Intrigued, Blade followed us. On the spacious table, a brand-new matte black protective suit lay on a special mannequin.
"You can change and test it. The suit in exchange for the blood, as agreed."
"Blood?" Peter asked, bewildered, while Blade, without wasting time, began pulling off his old equipment.
"Yes, vampire blood. And Eric's own. He's a dhampir, by the way," I explained in a whisper. "Half-human, half-vampire. He doesn't have their weaknesses. I believe his blood can help in the research and creation of some sort of super-soldier serum, at the very least."
"Wait... vampires... REALLY exist?!" Peter whispered, eyes bulging, his scientific worldview crumbling.
"Vampires, mages, demons, aliens, world governments, mutants, gods," I listed with a shrug, indifferent. "It's easier to list what doesn't exist in this world."
"And what doesn't?" Peter asked, obviously taking my answer as a joke. But Blade, already pulling on the new jumpsuit, looked at me with surprising seriousness.
"Limited-edition Szechuan sauce from McDonald's that ran for a limited time in 1998 for the Mulan movie release," I said, reducing everything to a joke. "Well, how is it, Eric?"
Blade, already fully dressed, made several sharp, lightning-fast movements: a strike, a dodge, a turn. The suit fit him like a glove without making a single sound.
"Fucking awesome!" he finally declared. "This shit is like a second skin. Just amazing. If I just had some creepy mask to scare the bad guys, you could say I've rebranded."
"Your mug scares them worse than any mask." I grinned. "But the idea is interesting. I'll think about what can be done with this."
"Thanks. I won't stay in your debt."
"If anything, I'm the one in eternal debt to you..."
"Hah, yeah, money comes and goes." He waved it off. "But a suit like this or your stimulants? You can't get that just anywhere. So don't play poor."
"Well, that's also true. By the way, Peter, are you going to the university lab today? Or maybe you'll stay here?"
"Well, Gwen seems to be there now, so in theory, I can stay here if needed. Why?"
"Basically, I'm heading to a reputable law firm to consult about a couple of patents. And you, if it's not too much trouble, make as many stimulants and NZT as you can. We'll need a stockpile."
"Whoa, kid, decided to go public, and right away you're playing your trump cards!" Blade said appreciatively, assessing my plan.
"Um, what exactly will you patent?" Peter asked after nodding at my request.
"Just consulting for now. A patent is not a quick matter... But since I've most likely attracted extra attention, there are options to speed this up. Buy them off with the same 'Proteus,' get protection. Basically, I don't know yet how everything will work out, but at a minimum, I want to understand the ins and outs of the bureaucratic process."
"Where are you going, if you don't mind me asking?" Blade asked, and curiosity slipped into his voice.
"Not a secret. The law firm 'Nelson and Murdock'."
I saw it. It wasn't just a spark in Blade's eyes. He froze for a moment, and a barely noticeable, knowing grin appeared on his face. He definitely knew Matt Murdock. But I didn't.
Well, not for long.
//=================//