46
As soon as the taxi carrying John drove away, the light, playful atmosphere between the two women evaporated, replaced by icy tension. The fake smiles disappeared, and their postures hardened.
"You've gotten sloppy, little sister," Natasha said, her voice turning icy, all warmth gone. "Damsel in distress? Such a cliché."
"It worked, didn't it?" Yelena snapped back. "Unlike your dramatic entrance, as if you were filming a motorcycle porn commercial. What does your director want with him, anyway?"
"That's not for Valentina's lapdog to know," Natasha parried. "Do your orders still include 'liquidate on failure due to ugliness and the emotional range of a plank'? Or has the CIA gotten smarter?"
The air between them seemed to crackle with static electricity. A few more seconds and they would have clawed at each other's throats right in the middle of the street. But both were professionals to the bone. Personal conflict, whatever its nature, couldn't interfere with the mission. After exchanging a final, poison-filled glance, they silently walked away in different directions.
Of course, within minutes, both sides' leadership would learn of the competitor's involvement. But this wouldn't affect the mission objectives. On the contrary, it had become a personal rivalry. And neither intended to lose.
Sitting in the taxi carrying me to the university, I reflected on the fateful meeting that had just occurred. My NZT-enhanced brain was still operating at full capacity, analyzing every nuance.
Natasha Romanoff. SHIELD. This was good. I had attracted the attention of a predictable, bureaucratic monster. It was clear this was primarily due to the fake Fisk, but that was temporary. Soon they would learn about "Proteus," and then my value in their eyes would grow exponentially. The mountain was coming to Muhammad.
As for the CIA, Yelena, and her boss... I hadn't even considered that option. They played too dirty; Project Sentinel alone was proof enough. I was practically certain that Yelena had orders to liquidate me if recruitment failed. SHIELD, by comparison, looked like the better option. They preferred to collect assets, not create martyrs.
Perhaps it was worth considering the terms of working with them. What I could offer, what I definitely wouldn't reveal... but I'd let them stew for a couple of days. I had things to do. I needed to channel my thoughts into a more constructive direction.
I closed my eyes, tuning out the streets flashing past the window, and opened the system window. The balance of 1,150 OP brought a pleasant warmth. It was time for a gamble. I clicked the familiar option: "Forge Reality!" 650 OP vanished from my account immediately, and a notification appeared in return. I eagerly read the description of the dropped information package.
[Obtained information package (common) - Entity Crafting (Wakfu). (Unlocking information package costs 500 OP)]
An ancient craft that allows one to extract essence and energy from natural components such as monster parts, rare plants, or minerals, and weave them into weapons, armor, and artifacts.
Key principles:
Principle of Inheritance: Created equipment directly inherits the key properties and abilities of the creature or material from which it is made. Armor made from the hide of a fireproof monster will resist fire; a weapon forged from the claw of a superfast predator gains a bonus to attack speed.
Principle of Essence: The quality, durability, and strength of the final item depend directly on the power of the source material. The stronger and rarer the creature, the more powerful the equipment created from it will be.
Principle of Synergy: This skill grants an intuitive understanding of how best to combine various components. You can combine organic materials with each other or, using your scientific knowledge, connect them with modern technologies to create unique techno-organic hybrids.
Yes. Finally. A skill that fully justified the system's name, "Celestial Forge." A crafting skill, but with nuances... this was something completely new. Not just science, but alchemy. This wouldn't make me a full-fledged blacksmith, but the potential of this skill was limitless. Every exotic enemy, every monster I might encounter was now not just a threat, but a walking treasure trove.
And not just an enemy, either... My brain, already pushed to its limit, began processing in entirely new categories.
Take a hypothetical Groot, for example. Take a small splinter from him, process it, extract the "essence," and, using this skill, weave living fibers into a composite material like "Proteus." Could I create active self-regeneration this way? Would a bullet hole in the armor close up within minutes, drawing energy from light and moisture in the air like living tree bark?
What about Frost Giants from Jotunheim? A fragment of their bone or a piece of skin would be a unique material, a natural thermoelectric converter that absorbs heat and generates cold. Make gloves from this stuff, integrate a system of miniature heat exchangers, and the result would be an artifact that did not just protect against the cold. On command, it could actively extract heat from the environment, concentrate it, and release a directed stream of absolute zero. Instantly freezing anything, creating ice barriers, cooling overheated equipment. The material's passive property would become an active, controllable weapon.
I had not even mentioned what could be created with a symbiote. By the way, I definitely needed to ask Peter about his parents, because there did not seem to be any son of J. Jonah Jameson returning from space in this world. And somewhere out there were dragons too, even if that was connected to the Asian arc. Exotic alien races... even vampire blood could theoretically be used somehow.
And most importantly, if this was really a crafting skill, would I finally be able to work on unique ores? Uru, adamantium, vibranium... they were too valuable to be sitting idle for so long. According to the skill description, unlikely. It was more about organics. But even so, this was an excellent foundation that would let me work with unique materials in the future.
The price was high for a common skill, but the potential was limitless. I had exactly 500 OP. Unlock.
The headache, despite the package being "common," turned out to be noticeable. Different. Not like the ones from loading pure science. This was like a migraine from rewritten laws of physics. My brain desperately tried to reconcile thermodynamics with concepts like "essence" and "inheritance." No surprise, since this was essentially the first skill that let me interact with mysticism. Combined with the scientific knowledge I had already gained and the principle of synergy, its effectiveness should multiply many times over.
Where to obtain unique materials now... another coin for the piggy bank of SHIELD interactions. They had to have something interesting in their storerooms.
Speaking of SHIELD, did they know about alien civilizations? If they knew, they probably wouldn't have let Reed Richards go on his space expedition. But Hyperion was already on Earth, which raised questions. Why guess? When the five brave explorers returned to Earth, no longer quite human, everything would become clear.
I pushed the thoughts away as the taxi pulled up to the university. I texted Gwen, got out, and stood near the building, waiting for her.
She came out about seven minutes later, wearing a white lab coat that surprisingly suited her. I kept forgetting that in this world, Gwen Stacy wasn't just a spider-girl throwing punches. She was also a brilliant biochemist. Another plus: she'd be part of our team. Our small research team was becoming more and more balanced. Peter, a biochemistry genius and an idealist. Me, a pragmatic engineer. And her, the ideal bridge between our worlds. Each of us covered the others' blind spots.
"So, decided where we're having the wedding? I'm voting for the Maldives. Paris is too cliché," I greeted her with a wide, disarming smile.
Actually, I wasn't completely hitting on Gwen. Well, maybe only partially. After meeting two sexy spies, I just wanted to channel my restless energy into flirting. Gwen was going through a rough time: she'd lost her father, had recently killed people, and was desperately trying to find her place in the world. She clearly had no time for relationships. But that didn't stop me from lifting her mood and my own.
"Very funny," she said, rolling her eyes, but I noticed the corner of her mouth twitch into a smile. "Let's settle on a format where we're just colleagues on... um, a team?"
"We'll return to that too. But first, I have important news," I looked around to make sure no one was paying attention, then lowered my voice to a whisper. "Fisk is alive."
"Fuck!" Gwen cursed, her face instantly hardening. "But how?! We personally..."
"A meta-mercenary who took his appearance. The details aren't important. The thing is, the problem isn't solved."
"And? What will we do?" Fire flashed in her eyes.
"We won't get involved in this. At least not headlong," I said firmly.
"But..."
"Yes, I know. Revenge for your father. Your motives are clear. And considering the blood already on your hands, you crave just retribution. But there's another person for whom Blade started this purge."
"Frank..." Gwen guessed.
"Exactly. His entire family was killed. He was tortured nearly to death. He miraculously survived, and if not for my medicine, there's no telling when he would have woken from that coma. He has more right to this revenge than all of us combined."
"Medicine... capable of curing that?!" She looked at me in shock. "I... you... Ugh! Every meeting with you amazes me more and more."
"Thanks for the compliment. You're not bad yourself. But back to business. Frank will most likely handle Fisk. From what I understand, Blade plans to leave the country. And they might come after us hard. Actually, they already came after me..."
"What? Is it really that serious? Can I help somehow?" Genuine alarm filled her voice.
"Mmm, I don't think so. Just lie low for now. And," I looked her straight in the eyes, "don't accept any shady offers unless they come from me. Got it? Now memorize the base address and how to get there. I'll be there constantly for the next few days."
After relaying all the necessary information to Gwen and warning her that my phone would be unavailable, I went to buy a burner. Then I stopped by my place to drop off my old device. The moment I entered the apartment, I froze. My subconscious, sharpened by the recent NZT dose and the attention to detail I'd honed during my master watchmaker days, sounded the alarm. The book on the table sat at a different angle. The chair had shifted a centimeter. A faint trace of unfamiliar antistatic lingered in the air. There had been guests. They'd obviously installed a wiretap, and possibly cameras. Staying here would be suicide.
I ordered another taxi and returned to the base. Only Blade and the still-unconscious Frank were there.
"Your buddy went to see his family," Blade said, explaining Peter's absence. "Says he's worried about his uncle and aunt. But he did good work; put his heart into it. There's a whole shelf of pills and stimulants ready."
"Got it. He's not just a teammate anymore, by the way."
"Oh? Spider-Girl couldn't resist your charms, and you lured her into your web?"
"If only. It's just that she doesn't know where to go now, so she's clinging to whatever purpose she can find."
"You make it sound fancy," Blade chuckled. "Say it simply: she wants to keep kicking a bandit's ass, wants revenge for her father, and wants someone watching her back."
"Well, that's what I meant. Speaking of revenge..."
"Revenge..."
A voice like gravel scraping against metal cut through the silence of the base. Blade and I turned sharply. Frank Castle opened his eyes. He jerked, immediately trying to sit up, and his gaze, filled not with surprise but with cold fury, bored into us.
"Brother, lie still, don't thrash around!" Blade rushed to Frank, pushing him back down on the couch. "You're still in the peak phase of John's healing potion. Your body is rebuilding itself."
"Watchmaker..." Frank rasped, his gaze focusing on me, then on my watch. He nodded to himself.
"Well, yeah, his watch is fly. But we're talking about you right now. So, here's the situation..."
To the measured, heavy breathing of Frank, who listened with an emotionless face that was far more frightening than if he had been exploding with rage, Eric told him everything. About Kingpin, about Fisk, about how we "killed" him, but in reality, not him.
"And in the end, we sort of got revenge for you and your family, sticking our necks out, but actually, no. So all this mess now has to be sorted out by you."
"Thank you... both..." Frank said dryly, sinking back into his thoughts. "I'll handle the rest myself."
"Make it clear you'll handle it yourself. I'm leaving the country tomorrow. But don't despair. I'm always ready to help. John's already one of us, and I don't think he'll refuse to answer a few questions."
"I won't refuse," I agreed, nodding. Establishing trust with a specialist of Frank Castle's caliber was worth a lot. "Weapon modifications, suit creation, combat stims, healing potions. Contact me, Mr. Castle."
"Right, right, he's the brains!" Blade nodded. "He's even starting his own club here."
"Yeah... true, they could crush us both anytime, me and my club," I said, scratching the back of my head. "Well, remember I said the hunt for me might start? So... it looks like it has."
"What makes you think so? Did you notice something?"
"Yeah. Today, outside the lawyers' office, I ran into two girls. A blonde and a redhead. The blonde had unnaturally dense musculature. Like a weak super-soldier."
"Fuck, a redhead..." Blade groaned. "Probably Romanoff from SHIELD. Redheads are always trouble. So what happened? You ran into them, and then?"
"Well, we chatted a bit. I laughed at how absurd the situation was, told them a creepy joke, and bailed."
"Actually, yeah, it turned out pretty funny," Blade said with a chuckle. "One from SHIELD, and another from... well, some other agency. But you got lucky, by the way. They want to recruit you, since they sent Natasha. She's one of their best. She could seduce a eunuch, an impotent man, or a gay man."
"I think so too. And I'll most likely work with SHIELD, but on my own terms."
"Oh, that's smart," Eric said, nodding approvingly. "I also prefer working with one agency, MI-13, the British equivalent of SHIELD. Once you're representing something, your life doesn't really change much. You just get more resources, and they have your back."
"Exactly. The only thing left is to actually become someone worth representing," I answered with a sigh.
"No, no, kid, don't sell yourself short!" Blade sharply interrupted me. "You built me a magic suit overnight and brewed miracle medicine. You think Stark could pull off something like that? You're an asset worth hundreds of billions; take my word for it!"
"Hah, thanks. That actually helps. I'll figure out my overall strategy."
"What's there to think about? Offer them your miracle fabric and they'll be falling all over themselves to recruit you."
"I'm leaning that way too. The provisional patent is already filed; I'm just waiting for them to take the bait. But I need more tech. I don't want to be a one-trick pony. I want them to see me as an asset on par with Tony Stark and Reed Richards combined. And I need personal combat ability too, so they don't just kill me instead of recruiting me."
"Oh, you gonna build something now?" Blade asked with interest.
"Yeah. If anything happens, I can enter 'the flow' now, so shake me if you need anything," I said, heading for the lab, already running through blueprints and formulas in my head.
//=================//