The laboratory was an island of calm amidst S.H.I.E.L.D.'s never-sleeping base. It was funny, but now, almost a month since my isekai arrival, I could confidently say my work capacity was absolutely insane. Objectively, it seemed physically impossible to work twenty-four seven and still feel good. Yet I wasn't burnt out or run ragged. On the contrary, energy only seemed to accumulate inside me, demanding an outlet through new projects and ideas. This was further confirmation of my earlier thought: the "Spark of the Creator" embedded by the System wasn't just a skill. It was a fundamental change in my nature. Honestly, that wasn't so bad.
I often thought about an alternative scenario. If, from day one, I hadn't latched onto the System's possibilities, if I hadn't started working like a man possessed, if I'd simply sat in my Hell's Kitchen apartment, hung out at college, and enjoyed the moment, then one snap from Thanos would have erased all memory of me from this world. My epitaph would have been simple and humiliating: "The Stupidest Isekai Protagonist."
But this way, considering my strength was growing exponentially, I could confidently say that after another couple of months of this grinding, Thanos would be the one fearing my snaps. Bwa ha ha.
But enough empty reflections. There were problems to solve here and now, and the first was continuing the OP farming. Ideally, I should create some incredibly cool, inconspicuous surveillance bug. But I already had my spiritual dragonflies and my sonar. Any physical bug, especially considering the ideas I wanted to cram into it, could be captured, studied, and used by S.H.I.E.L.D., and therefore by Hydra, against me. So, no. I'd create something else. A drone. A reconnaissance drone. One that could crawl on walls, hah.
The idea was impractical, even stupid in some ways, and more about grandstanding than actual utility. For my main goal, which was obtaining OP, this was non-critical. At the same time, it was another project designed to demonstrate my genius to S.H.I.E.L.D. without posing a real threat to them.
I gathered my thoughts and mapped out the drone's design on the holographic interface. It would be a flat, credit-card-sized device capable of silently crawling across walls and ceilings. Instead of primitive wheels or tracks, it would use electroadhesion technology. The underside would feature flexible conductive pads. When voltage was applied, they would generate electrostatic attraction, allowing the drone to adhere to most surfaces: glass, concrete, and metal. Yes, it would be slower than a flying drone and less maneuverable. But it offered two key advantages: absolute silence and the ability to remain stationary for days with minimal energy expenditure. Perhaps that was all. Hah.
The fabrication process proved less complicated than expected. The critical component was developing the grip system. As usual, I used a polymer printer to create flexible tracks. Then, with microscopic precision, a robotic manipulator applied an intricate pattern of copper microfibers onto them. I spent about an hour experimenting with the pattern geometry and voltage until I achieved optimal, controlled grip on different materials.
Next came the chassis and drive assembly. I designed the flat body, gears, and shafts in CAD, then printed them from a lightweight but durable polymer. For slow, absolutely silent movement, I selected tiny but high-torque stepper motors.
What remained was assembly and software. I created a custom circuit board for the motors and electroadhesion system. The firmware's primary function was managing the adhesive force. It had to be sufficient to keep the drone from falling, yet not so strong that the drone couldn't move smoothly.
I conducted final testing, making the drone crawl across test panels of various materials. I calibrated the algorithms and checked the maximum tilt angle. Finally, I received the coveted notification.
[Device "Wall-Crawling Reconnaissance Drone" created. Complexity: Low. Received +150 OP!]
A flat reconnaissance drone utilizing electroadhesion technology for silent movement on vertical and inverted surfaces. Equipped with optical and acoustic sensors. Ideal for long-term covert observation in static positions.
After creating a second drone and receiving another 100 OP, I was about to move on to the next project when the audio-video feed from the spy dragonfly activated in my consciousness. My little spy, comfortably perched on Peter Parker's shoulder, was transmitting live. I set aside my tools and focused entirely on the feed, watching events unfold through the dragonfly's eyes.
Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy were walking through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sterile corridor. An escort agent walked ahead of them at a considerable distance, creating an illusion of privacy, which my little technical wonder easily bypassed.
"Gwen, do you even trust John?" Peter asked, lowering his voice. He added quickly, "I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just his knowledge, his capabilities. He talked about 'awakening a technological genius,' but it's obvious that's not all of it. He hides so much. I just want your opinion."
"I trust John," Gwen said firmly, without hesitation. She stopped, making Peter look into her eyes. "I trust him possibly more than anyone else in this world."
"That's quite a categorical statement," Peter said. There was shock in his voice.
"Nevertheless, it's the truth." Gwen shrugged and continued walking. "John, with all his strangeness, is the only one actually trying to do something for this damn world. Between his brilliant projects, he even manages to get rid of bastards of varying degrees of nastiness."
"Yeah, there was Kraven," Peter admitted, his voice heavy.
"Kraven, the Purple bastard who was brainwashing people, Kingpin's meta-mercenaries, and that's only the ones we know about." Gwen confirmed, hotly. "In a couple of weeks, John's done more for this city than this whole damn organization that's so secretive it hides even its own accomplishments, if there even are any. They stick their noses into everything, and even now I can feel the constant, relentless surveillance being conducted on us."
I chuckled in my laboratory. My conscience pricked me a little, I admit. Gwen finished.
"So, yes, Peter. I trust John. I'm with him until the very end."
That was pleasant. It was very pleasant. At the very least, I could definitely count on Gwen Stacy.
This already sounds like something more than just gratitude and friendship, Peter Parker said quietly.
Gwen Stacy remained silent, and their walk to the parking lot continued in tense silence. They got into different cars and drove off. The dragonfly, of course, remained on Peter Parker. Gwen's senses wouldn't allow for normal surveillance while she was outside the Base walls, where everything was noisy with hundreds of people and tracking technologies.
Peter Parker drove silently through the streets of Queens. Through his eyes, I saw the neighborhood houses float past and watched the lights turn on inside them. He was completely immersed in his own thoughts. When he arrived home, he went silently to his room and collapsed into his office chair. He threw his head back and began to thoughtfully study the ceiling. This lasted no more than two minutes. Then he shook his head sharply, as if shaking off a spell. He stood up and resolutely approached his closet. He stood before it for about ten seconds before opening the door. Inside, between the shelves, was an inconspicuous false panel. He slid it aside and took out a flat cardboard box. It was intriguing.
He placed the box on the bed and opened it. My eyes saw a suit. It was a real hero suit. It wasn't bright and loud. It was utilitarian and grim. It was made of dark gray, almost black elastic fabric, with protective inserts made from Proteus on the chest, ribs, forearms, and thighs. The most interesting part was the parallel-mounted sockets on the forearms and chest. They were for an automatic injection system. In the box, next to the suit, lay a scattering of ampoules marked with different colors. Inside them were the stimulants. There was "Muscular," and there was "Absolute Predator."
So that was it. All this time, Peter Parker hadn't just been suffering over Mary Jane. He'd been preparing. Strengthening himself on his own. Getting ready for that arctic fox he knew would creep up on him again. Arctic foxes crept up unnoticed, and Kraven had confirmed that. The ants in Peter Parker's pants had just received concrete, combat-grade confirmation. I realized my friend was far more complex and determined than I'd thought.
For a couple of minutes that felt like an eternity, Peter Parker simply stared at his secret arsenal. He checked the seams on the suit and ran his fingers over the cold injector sockets. Judging by his grim expression, a hurricane of thoughts was raging in his mind. I expected him to continue working on the suit, or to give in to impulse and put it on. But Peter Parker surprised me again.
He carefully folded the suit and put it back into the box. Then he pushed it, not into the secret compartment in the closet, but into the farthest, dustiest corner under his bed. I understood his logic. He was removing the temptation from his sight. Under the bed, it was harder to reach than simply opening the closet door. This was an act of discipline and an act of trust in me. He left the stimulant ampoules on the table. I fully supported that. You always need to have a Plan B at hand for a quick response.
Then he picked up his phone. Through the dragonfly, I saw him type something quick and sharp. It was a pity my spiritual scout wasn't suited for espionage. When an incoming message lit up the screen and a call rang almost immediately, I understood who he was writing to. To his credit, he didn't take the call. Instead, he tapped the screen a few times, and the calls stopped. It seemed Mary Jane Watson had been blacklisted. I respected that.
After a couple of minutes, while Peter Parker tiredly looked at the smartphone's dark screen, someone knocked on his door.
"Peter, may I come in?" A soft female voice sounded from behind the door. It made him flinch and return to reality.
Yes, Aunt May. Of course, Peter Parker answered.
A woman of about fifty entered the room. She had kind but worried eyes. In her hand, she held her phone. It all clicked into place; I saw Peter's face twist. He understood everything, too.
"Dear, Mary Jane is calling me on my phone," Aunt May explained. "She says that she can't reach you. She's very upset, and she's asking you to call her back. She says that you need to talk urgently and that she'll explain everything."
"She won't explain anything." Peter Parker shook his head. His voice was even and emotionless. He extended his hand for the phone. May, though she had doubts, gave it to him. Peter Parker brought the phone to his ear. Fortunately, it was the side where the dragonfly was sitting.
"Peter, thank God. You have to hear me out. All of this isn't what you think it..." Mary Jane's fast, panicking voice came from the speaker.
"From this day forward, we are through," Peter Parker interrupted her, coldly and clearly. "Don't call me or my family. Not ever."
He ended the call and blocked Mary Jane's number on Aunt May's phone, too.
"She was cheating on me," Peter Parker admitted with a sigh, and he finally raised his eyes to May.
"Is this true?" May exhaled in surprise. "Oh, Peter. She always seemed like such a good girl."
"Yes, sometimes life presents you with unpleasant surprises." Peter let out a bitter laugh. "But that's no longer part of my life. That's the main thing."
For another couple of minutes, they discussed the situation. May, like any loving aunt, shifted from shock to maternal fury, and then to support. After making sure Peter Parker was holding up, she left his room. My dragonfly followed her out. Its charge was running low.
I analyzed the data package I'd received over the past few hours and realized everything had worked out surprisingly well. With Gwen Stacy, I had her trust and more. I had Peter Parker's genius. Yes, he was broken right now, but he made the right adult decision. In time, he would understand what an invaluable service I had rendered him by tearing that poisonous root out of his life. Well, I shouldn't count myself out, either. I had potential. Anyway, it was time to return to work.
Encouraged by this small but important success, I returned to my crafting with renewed vigor. A couple more drones brought me +150 OP, bringing my total balance to 2200. Now I moved on to an assembly line. I proceeded to create a whole series of similar new projects. They were essentially useless, but they were flashy and interesting to implement. Most importantly, they brought in a stable income in the form of OP. Magical reverse engineering wasn't going to unlock itself.
Next on my list was a high-tech combat knife. I built an ultrasonic generator into the handle that caused the blade to vibrate at a frequency of twenty thousand hertz. These micro-vibrations turned it from a simple blade into a monomolecular saw capable of cutting through Kevlar, thin sheet metal, and other composite materials.
I forged the blade from a special tungsten alloy capable of withstanding extreme loads. Then I machined it to ideal specifications on a CNC machine. The handle, with its hermetically sealed generator, was printed on a 3D printer and assembled manually. The test stand showed the knife passing through a standard military armor plate like butter, confirming the viability of the concept. As always, the best confirmation came from the system message.
[Weapon "Vibro-Knife" created. Complexity: Low. Received +150 OP!]
A tactical combat knife with a tungsten alloy blade and a built-in ultrasonic generator. The blade's high-frequency vibration allowed it to overcome most types of personal armor and light obstacles.
I made two more of these knives, gaining another 300 OP. Then I moved on to the next gadget. A magnetic GPS-GSM micro-tracker seemed promising for keeping tabs on someone.
I envisioned a tiny device no bigger than a SIM card, enclosed in a durable magnetic housing. Inside would be a GPS module to determine coordinates and a GSM chip to transmit them. The main problem was battery life. Instead of struggling to create ultra-compact batteries, I opted for software optimization, radically cutting functionality. The tracker wouldn't run constantly. It would wake up once an hour for five seconds to catch a GPS signal, and once every six hours to send the accumulated batch of coordinates.
The creation process itself was uncomplicated. The main problem, though obvious, was the connection due to the weak antenna. I used simulation software to design a complex fractal antenna etched directly onto the printed circuit board. This maximized signal reception and transmission despite the tiny size. I printed the housing, with a recess for a powerful neodymium magnet, using a polymer printer. A robotic station installed the chips and power controller onto the board, and I wrote the firmware implementing an aggressive energy-saving mode. The device would remain in deep sleep for ninety-nine percent of the time, providing more than a week of autonomous operation.
[Device "Micro-Tracker" created. Complexity: Low. Received +150 OP!]
A miniature GPS-GSM tracker with magnetic mounting. It uses a fractal antenna and deep sleep protocol to ensure long autonomous operation. It is designed for covert tracking of objects over large distances.
Production didn't take long, so I created a whole batch and received a total of 450 OP. More projects followed. Friday flowed into Saturday, and Saturday into Sunday. The laboratory became my world, the rhythmic hum of the machines my only music. Absorbed in creating useful and not-so-useful junk, I noticed the fatigue pills had worn off. I slept for several hours, then returned to the laboratory Sunday evening.
I created the final flash grenade, and as I received the coveted 50 OP, my balance finally hit 4000.
I returned to my sterile room, lay down on the bed, and mentally opened the window for the skill unlock. And then I hesitated.
This was a momentous occasion. A turning point. I was scared. This was a rare information package, spanning multiple disciplines. More than just a massive data array would be loaded into my mind. My body, my nervous system, and possibly even my very soul would be altered, prepared for the magical manipulations to come. I was sure the pain would be incredible.
So, enough reflecting. I swallowed an NZT tablet, a classic move, hoping it would help my brain survive and process the coming storm.
A system query surfaced in my consciousness. Clear and final.
[Do you truly wish to unlock information package (Rare) - From Trinitite to Power Stones (GURPS Technomancer) for 4000 OP?]
"Yes."
I mentally deducted the biggest expenditure yet from my balance and braced for the pain. But instead of pain, something completely different happened.
First, all sound disappeared. Absolute, unnatural silence, as if the world around me had simply been switched off. Then came dizziness, a sharp, all-consuming sensation, as if the floor had dropped away beneath my feet and I was falling into a bottomless abyss. My vision narrowed to a single point, then blinked out, drowning in velvety darkness. I felt my consciousness, my personality, my "I," being torn from my body and beginning to disintegrate.
This was new. At the very least, I was going to be unconscious.
//=================//
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