CHAPTER 147 — I'm Hit-Girl.
After returning from Diana's world, Tony Stark went straight to his workshop. He printed the documents and began preparing them to send to Gaius.
Tony reviewed the files one last time, slowly, page by page. Everything was laid out clearly and without room for interpretation.
Blueprints, drawn with care. Every component labeled. Every measurement exact.
Assembly steps, written in a straightforward sequence. What came first. What had to wait. What could not be rushed.
Power requirements, listed with firm limits. No shortcuts. No pushing the system beyond what the frame could safely handle.
Safety constraints, clearly marked and impossible to overlook.
And finally, the purpose.
Inspired by the Mother Box, the new invention could control matter within carefully defined limits.
Tony leaned back and rubbed his eyes.
He knew how important this invention was to Gaius. Humanity in that world was fighting on all fronts, against daemons, aliens, and rebellion. With this invention, he could help them. He could help Gaius.
After all, Gaius stood on the side of humanity. More importantly, Tony trusted him.
He opened the Multiversal Chat interface.
The parcel system came online at once, smooth and silent. Tony selected the documents and watched them compress into a single sealed data parcel. He marked it clearly.
Recipient: Gaius.
No message.
No note.
No explanation.
Tony trusted that Gaius would understand what this was the moment he saw it. Some things did not need words.
He sent the parcel.
The interface blinked once. The package vanished.
Delivery confirmed.
Tony closed the interface and stood there for a long moment, hands resting on the table. Whatever came next was out of his hands now.
A soft tone echoed inside Gaius' vision.
A notification.
He paused where he stood, alone in the quiet section of the ship, and called up the Multiversal Chat interface. A single parcel waited for him. The sender was clear.
Tony Stark.
Gaius opened it.
The documents unfolded before him in perfect order, page after page aligning as if they had always belonged together. Schematics rotated slowly, showing inner layers and clean lines. Text appeared beside them, simple and direct.
There was no waste.
No drama.
Just logic.
Gaius studied it carefully. He did not rush. He did not skim. Each section told him exactly what Tony intended.
The value of these documents was immense. Their importance to the Imperium was clear in simple, practical terms.
With them, armor and power armor could be produced more reliably, with fewer flaws and less wasted material. Weapons could be standardized, making repairs easier and training more consistent. Vehicles, tanks, and transports, could be built in steady numbers instead of relying on slow, uneven production.
Even smaller worlds could manufacture parts and equipment without needing rare forge-world expertise. Supply lines would be shorter. Replacements would arrive faster. Units could stay equipped instead of fighting with damaged or mismatched gear.
It wouldn't change the nature of the wars the Imperium fought, but it would help humanity endure them far more easily.
He accepted the parcel into secure storage. The interface closed.
He made no comment. He asked no questions.
This matter would wait. It would be discussed later, with Guilliman, when the time was right.
For now, it was enough to know it existed.
Across the Oath of Rectitude, preparations moved forward.
Orders passed quietly from station to station. Lights shifted from standby to active glow. Consoles came alive with steady lines of data. Nothing rushed. Nothing broke rhythm.
Deep within the ship, the warp drive began to wake.
A low vibration passed through the hull, felt more than heard. It was not violent. It was like a slow breath being taken in. Power levels climbed in clean steps, controlled and measured.
Crew members moved through their tasks with practiced calm. No one spoke more than needed. There was no fear here. No excitement. Just discipline earned through years of service.
The Navigator was informed. The course was clear.
Destination: Terra.
Calculations were checked. Then checked again. Every path through the warp confirmed and locked in place.
When the final signal came, there was no hesitation.
The warp drive engaged.
Reality itself seemed to stretch ahead of the ship. Space tore open in a controlled line, clean and sharp. The Oath of Rectitude moved forward, its massive form steady and sure.
Realspace vanished behind them.
The Immaterium closed in.
And then, something changed.
The moment the ship fully entered the warp, an unseen force settled around it. A golden presence, vast and quiet, wrapped the vessel from bow to stern.
No systems reported it.
No sensors reacted.
It was not something machines could see.
But it was there.
The ship's passage became smooth in a way no warp travel ever was. No pressure pressed against the hull. No distant whispers scratched at the edges of thought. No twisting currents tried to pull them off course.
Only two beings noticed.
The Navigator felt it first.
Through her third eye, the warp appeared calm. Too calm. A clear path stretched ahead, bright and steady, untouched by the madness that usually lived there. The golden shield brushed against her senses like a steady hand.
She trembled.
This was not luck.
This was not chance.
She had felt hints before, moments where the warp seemed to bend away from Lord Captain Gaius. Now there was no doubt left in her heart.
This protection had a source.
And she knew its name.
The God-Emperor of Mankind.
Her breath shook as she accepted the truth fully. Gaius was not merely protected.
He was favored.
She sent her report at once. Calm words, as trained.
Warp travel stable.
The Astronomican exceptionally clear.
Terra's direction easier to sense than ever before.
A pilot delivered his report next.
Course steady. No disturbance.
A serf followed, bearing the Navigator's message.
Gaius listened without expression.
Three weeks to Terra.
An impossible time. What should have taken months, even years, reduced to days.
Gaius nodded once.
He had expected this.
With all matters confirmed, he turned away from the bridge and walked toward his private chamber. His steps were unhurried. There was no doubt in him.
The ship was under the Emperor's gaze.
In another world, Mindy stepped out of the Stark residence.
The night air was cool against her face. She adjusted her skirt slightly, feeling the familiar weight hidden beneath it. A pistol rested against her thigh, snug and ready. Small knives were tucked into clean slots, easy to reach.
All gifts from Tony Stark.
He had not made a big show of it. Just handed them over after learning about her reward. Perfect accuracy. Every shot. Every throw.
He had taken it seriously.
The suit she wore fit tight and moved with her body. Flexible, strong, built for motion. Stark tech, quiet and clean.
Happy offered her a ride.
Mindy shook her head.
She wanted to walk.
She wanted to feel it. To test what she could do now.
Happy didn't like it. After all, it was late at night, and a little girl was heading home alone. He knew Tony's friends weren't ordinary, but still… he let her go.
Her steps were light as she moved down the street, senses open, body ready.
Her earpiece clicked.
"Mindy," Damon's voice said. "You back?"
"Yeah," she replied easily. "Just left."
There was a short pause.
"You know the kid in the green suit, right? The one acting like a superhero."
Mindy smiled.
"Yeah. I know him."
Damon confirmed it. Kick-Ass. Heading toward Rasul's apartment.
Damon's voice hardened.
"That kid is going to be in danger. Rasul is a drug dealer, people like him Ruthless. There's no need for mercy."
Mindy felt a rush of excitement.
"Send me the spot."
The location came through.
It was close.
Very close.
She broke into a run, feet barely touching the ground. She moved fast, quiet, blending into shadow. The building came into view quickly.
She climbed it like it was nothing. Hands and feet finding holds without thought. Darkness wrapped around her as she reached an unlocked window.
Inside, the scene was bad.
Kick-Ass was pinned down by two men. Rasul stood in front of him, knife in hand, talking. Another man watched nearby.
Kick-Ass was scared. It showed in every tight breath.
Mindy didn't hesitate. She pulled out a mask from the Multiversal Chat parcel system and put it on, covering her face.
She drew a knife. Opened the window just enough.
The throw was perfect.
The blade struck the back of Rasul's head. He stopped speaking and fell forward, face hitting the floor hard. The knife stayed where it landed.
Silence hit the room.
Then confusion.
A woman in a red, flirty suit screamed, loud and sharp.
Mindy stepped through the window.
The men rushed her, shouting, knives raised.
She moved without hesitation. Blades slid from her belt, flicked from her fingers, and each one found its mark. Not flailing, not guessing, every strike precise. A heart, a Head, a neck. Bodies hit the ground with thuds that echoed in the room.
One man tried to escape, ducking past her toward the door. Mindy's knife flicked, catching him in the chest before he even reached it. He crumpled, gasping, the knife buried too deep for him to recover.
The woman grabbed a knife, hands shaking. Mindy picked up Rasul's blade calmly. The woman panicked and turned to flee.
Mindy ended it quickly.
Kick-Ass ran, panic driving his feet across the floor.
A knife thudded into the floor just inches in front of him. He skidded to a stop, heart pounding, staring down the blade.
Mindy stepped closer, calm and steady, every movement controlled. "Sit," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Running won't help you."
He froze for a moment, eyes darting around the room, looking for another escape. But there was none. The smell of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air. Slowly, trembling, he sank to the floor, hands clutching his knees.
"Who… who are you?" His voice was barely above a whisper, cracking with fear.
Mindy's mask hid most of her face, but her eyes glinted as she smiled. "I'm Hit-Girl."
~~~
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