Chapter 51 Exclusive
When Lynn and Hill came out of S.H.I.E.L.D., Natasha had already left.
She left a voice message saying she went to hand in her report to Fury and told Lynn, "Rest well and don't die."
Hill drove and didn't return to the base, directly turning into an unlisted hotel in downtown.
She tossed the car keys to the valet and lifted a small black bag from the back seat, which contained her change of clothes and an unopened pistol.
The room was on the twenty-third floor.
After the door closed, Hill placed the gun on the nightstand and then began to unbutton Lynn's shirt.
Lynn didn't move, looking at her.
Her movements were quick, like disassembling a familiar firearm, her knuckles carrying a rough callousness as they brushed across his collarbone.
What happened next was like a silent film with the fast-forward button pressed.
There were no lines, only the sound of breathing and the soft friction of bones and muscles.
Hill didn't like a slow pace; she was accustomed to being efficient, direct, and goal-oriented.
Afterwards, Hill lay flat on his chest, her hair scattered in the crook of his neck, like a cat that had finally put away its claws.
"How do you plan to deal with Romanoff?"
She suddenly asked.
Lynn looked at the ceiling:
"Deal with her how?"
"Don't play dumb."
Hill propped herself up on her elbows, her grayish-green eyes very bright in the dim light,
"She knows we are here. So do I. So does Gwen."
"Gwen said the interrogation starts tomorrow."
"You know I don't mean the interrogation."
Hill's voice was very flat, without questioning, merely stating,
"I'm not good at this kind of relationship. I'm used to monopolizing targets."
"Then monopolize me."
Hill raised her eyes to look at him:
"You allow it?"
"I allow it."
Lynn said,
"But you have to make her agree to quit first."
Hill twitched the corners of her mouth, which didn't count as a smile:
"She won't agree."
The cell phone on the nightstand vibrated.
Lynn picked it up, and Natasha's video call request flashed on the screen.
Hill reached out and pressed speakerphone.
Natasha's face appeared in the frame, with Fury's office as the background. She was sitting on the windowsill, swinging her legs, twirling a glass of red wine in her hand.
"I guessed you guys were together,"
Natasha took a sip of wine, her red hair looking like a ball of fire on the screen,
"Hill, you've occupied the private channel for twenty minutes. I couldn't hear the contents, but I can guess."
"Then your guess is quite accurate."
Hill didn't get up from Lynn's body.
"Fury wants to see him,"
Natasha said,
"Tomorrow morning at ten, Triskelion. It's not an interrogation, but a cooperation intent. There is an undeletable piece of code in Cassandra's remains, and Furyfeels only Lynn can activate it."
"I'll be there tomorrow."
Lynn said.
"Also,"
Natasha tilted her head, her gaze sliding from Hill's face to Lynn's face,
"Gwen Stacy is also on tomorrow's attendance list. Furyhas approved her consultant status."
Hill frowned:
"What does she know?"
"She understands Lynn,"
Natasha smiled slightly, not mockingly, but as a kind of objective statement,
"At least she understands a certain part of him better than we do."
The room fell silent for a few seconds.
"Natasha,"
Hill suddenly spoke,
"You aren't planning to quit, right?"
Natasha in the screen stopped swinging her legs.
She looked at Hill, and then at Lynn. There was no provocation in her eyes, only a seasoned, world-weary calmness.
"Quit what?"
Natasha asked.
"This."
Hill's fingers tapped on Lynn's chest,
"Us."
Natasha put down her wine glass, leaned closer to the screen, and her voice lowered:
"Hill, we've known each other for eight years. Have you ever seen me quit any mission?"
"This isn't a mission."
"Right,"
Natasha nodded,
"So it's even less possible to quit."
She paused and added:
"But I'm also not interested in snatching your hotel room key. You have your time slot, and I have mine. As long as he doesn't die or play dead, I have no objections."
Hill was silent for two seconds, then said:
"What if I ask you to quit?"
"Then I would ask you to a duel,"
Natasha picked up her wine glass again, her tone as casual as chatting about the weather,
"But that would make it very difficult for him. So I won't bring it up, and you shouldn't force him to choose either. Let's each rely on our own abilities, how about that?"
Hill didn't answer.
She reached out and hung up the video call.
The room quieted down again.
Lynn looked at Hill:
"Are you angry?"
"No,"
Hill lay back down, her face buried in the crook of his shoulder, her voice muffled,
"Just not used to it. The education I received since childhood was that there is only one target: complete the mission and evacuate the scene. Now the target has become... a shared resource."
"I am not a resource."
"Then what are you?"
Lynn thought for a moment:
"Diners. You are too. We are all here to eat, not to fight over the pot."
Hill finally let out a laugh, very light, like an exhaled breath.
She bit his shoulder, not hard: "... Lame metaphor."
The cell phone vibrated again.
This time it was a text message from Gwen:
[Tomorrow at ten, don't be late. I've prepared a lot of questions.]
Hill glanced at it, reached out to take the phone, and replied with a text:
[He'll be on time. Tonight he belongs to me.]
She threw the phone back onto the nightstand, turned over to pin Lynn down, her eyes carrying a focus of "mission restarting."
"One more time,"
She said,
"Then you sleep. Tomorrow you have to deal with three women."
"Three?"
"Me, Romanoff, Stacy," Hill counted, her fingers tracing back and forth across his chest, "If you count Ivy Blake as well, that makes four."
"Ivy is in Sokovia."
"Her flight back to New York is tonight,"
Hill said, "I checked the flight."
Lynn looked at her, speechless.
Hill lowered her head to kiss him, her muffled voice clinging to his lips:
"In this lifetime of yours, you probably won't be able to get a full night's sleep."
Chapter 52 Breakfast Meeting
The meeting room in the Triskelion was brighter than imagined.
The floor-to-ceiling windows had no curtains drawn, and the sunlight poured in, scorching patches of light onto the tabletop.
Gwen sat on the left side of the long table, a notebook spread open before her, the cap of her fountain pen uncapped as she twirled it in her hand.
Lynn pushed the door open, followed by Tony.
Tony was carrying a paper bag, emanating the savory aroma of bacon and fried eggs.
"I brought breakfast,"
Tony dropped the paper bag onto the table,
"Who wants some? Pepper says having a meeting on an empty stomach easily causes low blood sugar, and then people sign contracts randomly."
Fury sat at the head of the table, his single eye moving from Tony's face to the paper bag:
"Mr. Stark, this is a classified meeting room."
"Can't eat in a classified meeting room?"
Tony pulled out a sandwich, took a bite,
"Then your confidentiality regulations here are truly inhumane."
Natasha leaned against the window, swirling a cup of coffee, and let out a chuckle:
"Save one for me. With cheese."
"No cheese, only bacon."
"Good enough."
Hill sat next to Lynn, swiping through data on a tablet.
Without raising her head, she reached into the paper bag, pulled out a bread roll, tore it open, and handed half to Lynn.
Lynn took it and bit into it. The bread was a bit dry, but the ham inside was still warm.
Gwen's fountain pen stopped.
She watched Hill's natural action, the pen tip bleeding a small blot of ink on the paper.
"Alright,"
Fury tapped the tabletop, his single eye sweeping the room,
"Today is not an interrogation, it's a breakfast meeting. Three topics:
Cassandra's wreckage, Harry Osborn, and..." He paused, looking at Lynn,
"The blue light in your eyes."
Lynn chewed on the bread:
"Reflection."
"The blue light of the reactor,"
Gwen spoke suddenly, her voice brisk, as if discussing the weather,
"I saw it in the remote footage of the nuclear power plant.
It lasted for about three seconds. It wasn't a reflection, it was bioluminescence. Similar to the stress response of certain deep-sea fish."
Tony bit into his sandwich, saying vaguely:
"My brother is not a fish."
"Not currently,"
Gwen lowered her head to take notes,
"But there are fragments in the gene sequence waiting to be confirmed."
Natasha walked over holding her coffee, pulled out a chair, and sat down:
"Gwen, are these questions you're asking as a consultant, or as a girlfriend?"
The tips of Gwen's ears turned red, but her voice didn't tremble:
"Professional consultant. I'll save personal questions for after the meeting."
"Then I look forward to auditing,"
Natasha took a sip of coffee.
Hill pushed the tablet to the center of the table; the screen displayed the analysis chart of Cassandra's residual code:
"The code sent a signal, and the destination is outer space.
Deep space monitoring stations confirmed the coordinates point to the edge of the solar system, and a faint response was received three days ago."
Fury took over:
"In other words, what you blew up was not just a terroristsbase, but also a... communication relay station."
Tony swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and clapped his hands:
"So we dismantled an alien telephone booth? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Considered trouble,"
said Fury,
"Because the other party replied."
The meeting room fell quiet for a beat.
Natasha put down her coffee cup:
"The content of the reply?"
"A frequency,"
said Hill,
"Currently untranslatable.
But the structure... has a twelve percent similarity to Lynn's gene sequence."
Tony turned to Lynn, his gaze turning serious:
"Brother, you might really have relatives in space."
Lynn finished the rest of the bread and patted the crumbs off his hands:
"Then they should send me a greeting card instead of making nuisance calls."
Fury's single eye narrowed:
"Lynn, we need your cooperation for a deep scan. It won't be led by S.H.I.E.L.D., Stark Industries can supervise the whole process."
"I agree,"
said Tony immediately,
"But the equipment is mine, the data belongs to me, and a copy of the report goes to S.H.I.E.L.D.. No bargaining accepted."
"Mr. Stark,"
sighed Fury,
"Are you saving your brother or negotiating an acquisition?"
"The two don't conflict,"
Tony took out his phone from his pocket, swiped twice,
"Pepper, read the terms drafted last night to Director Fury."
Pepper's voice came from the phone speaker, carrying a hint of sleepy laziness:
"Article 1, all testing data is the private property of Stark Industries;
Article 2, if S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to access it, a written application must be submitted seventy-two hours in advance;
Article 3, if any accidents occur during the testing process, S.H.I.E.L.D. shall bear all legal responsibilities..."
Fury raised his hand:
"Fine. I'll sign."
Pepper let out a chuckle over the channel:
"Wise decision. Tony, remember to bring me a cup of coffee back, no sugar."
"Received, darling."
Tony hung up and raised an eyebrow at Fury,
"You see, efficiency."
Natasha applauded:
"Touching. Can I apply for reimbursement for last night's ammunition expenses now?"
"Talk to finance after the meeting,"
Fury rubbed his brow,
"The final topic, Harry Osborn. He is still mutating, but the speed has slowed down.
The Doctor said his serum and Lynn's gene produced some kind of... rejection reaction."
Gwen looked up:
"Rejection?"
"Lynn's genes are devouring it,"
said Hill,
"Like a firewall clearing a virus. Harry's body is self-healing, but his memories are all messed up. He doesn't remember who he is, only remembering..."
"Remembering what?"
asked Lynn.
"Remembering you,"
said Fury,
"He keeps saying, the Queen Bee has returned, the worker bees must go home."
Gwen's pen tip paused, drawing a circle on the paper.
After the meeting ended, everyone walked out in twos and threes.
Natasha hooked her arm around Hill's shoulder, whispering something; Hill shook her head, but the corners of her mouth curved up.
Tony was on the phone in the hallway, discussing the sweetness of coffee with Pepper.
Gwen called out to Lynn:
"Rooftop. Ten minutes."
The wind on the rooftop of the former Oscorp site was very strong.
Gwen leaned against the railing, not wearing a lab coat, but changed into a light gray trench coat, her hair tied into a ponytail.
Lynn walked over and stood beside her.
The sound of traffic on the street below was like a distant buzzing.
"Peter accepted it,"
said Gwen,
"I talked to him this morning. He said... thank you for saving him."
"He saved himself,"
said Lynn,
"I just didn't let him break his neck."
Gwen let out a very light chuckle.
She pulled something out of her trench coat pocket and tossed it to Lynn. It was a USB flash drive.
"Remote footage of the nuclear power plant,"
she said,
"I edited it. Only I saw those three seconds of your eyes; the original is with me, and the copy is deleted."
Lynn caught the USB flash drive and said nothing.
"No matter what you are,"
Gwen looked at the distant clouds,
"At least you still show up late for a bacon sandwich now. That's very... human."
"I was already very human."
"Then keep it that way,"
Gwen turned and walked toward the stairwell, turning her head at the doorway,
"Mr. Shareholder, don't bring breakfast to the next meeting.
It will make us look very unprofessional."
"You guys weren't professional to begin with,"
a voice drifted out from behind the water tank.
Peter hung upside down from the edge of the water tank. His red and blue suit was new, an improved version given by Tony; the loose threads were gone, and the black patterns around the eyes were much more orderly.
Gwen was startled, then frowned:
"Were you eavesdropping?"
"I'm on patrol,"
Peter swung down, stood on the rooftop, and scratched his head,
"Just passing by. Lynn... Mr. Stark, um, the suit fits very well. Thanks."
"Thank Tony,"
said Lynn, "He made it."
"And thank you too,"
Peter's voice lowered a bit,
"For not letting her... I mean, for not letting anything happen to Gwen."
Gwen walked over and helped Peter straighten the wrinkles on the collar of his suit, her action as natural as adjusting a microscope in the lab:
"Your suit is dirty. Wandering out again last night?"
"Stopped a robbery,"
Peter's voice carried a hint of small pride,
"Right on Third Avenue. I used web-shooters to stick the robber to a streetlight, and when the police arrived they said... said good job."
"That's indeed good,"
said Lynn,
"Next time don't stick them to a streetlight, stick them to a fire hydrant. Streetlight repairs are expensive."
Peter was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing.
That laughter was very youthful, carrying a bit of a relieved silliness.
Gwen looked at the two of them, shook her head, her ponytail sweeping across her shoulder:
"I'm going back to the lab. Peter, remember to eat dinner. Lynn... remember to get your check-up."
She left.
Only Lynn and Peter were left on the rooftop.
Peter shot out a web, ready to swing away, but stopped midway and turned back to shout:
"Mr. Stark!"
"Hmm?"
"You... you'll be a good shareholder!"
Lynn watched him disappear among the buildings, the corners of his mouth twitching.
The phone vibrated.
Ivy's text message:
[Hotel lobby. Brought you a specialty from Sokovia. By the way, I'm hungry.]
Lynn replied:
[Be right there.]
He turned and walked toward the stairs, his steps brisk.
Chapter 53: Investment
The hotel room was on the twenty-seventh floor.
Ivy didn't draw the curtains, and the city lights drifted in, pooling into a patch of shattered silver on the silk shirt over her shoulders.
The crystal sat on the table, its dim blue light flickering on and off like a slowly breathing heart.
Lynn entered, tossing his coat onto the back of a chair.
Ivy turned around, holding two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to him:
"A specialty of Sokovia, picked by my own hands. Touched?"
Lynn took the drink, didn't drink it, set it down, and then reached out to pull her over.
Ivy's back pressed against the cold glass window, and she let out a low "Mhm," almost dropping her glass.
"The crystal is glowing,"
she said, "It's waiting for you."
"Let it wait."
The lights went out.
When they lit up again, Ivy was lying on his chest, her fingertips tracing meaningless circles on his collarbone.
The crystal was still glowing on the table, but its frequency had sped up, like some kind of anxious pulse.
"Seriously,"
Ivy spoke suddenly, her voice carrying post-encounter hoarseness,
"What is your dream?"
Lynn looked up at the ceiling, his fingers tangling in a strand of her hair:
"Everything."
"Everything?"
"Money, freedom, truth,"
he paused,
"and all of you."
Ivy raised her head, her amber eyes shining brightly in the dim light:
"All of us? Who do you mean?"
Lynn didn't answer immediately.
He mentally ran through the list:
Ivy, Hill, Natasha, Gwen, and even Mia, who hadn't fully snapped out of it yet.
Having time-traveled, he might as well intercept the female leads wherever he could since he was already here.
Not a single one could be missing; missing even one would mean his rebirth was in vain.
But out loud, he only said:
"All those I'm responsible for."
"Greedy,"
Ivy bit his shoulder, not heavily,
"Are all people from the Stark Family this greedy?"
"Inherited."
The doorbell rang.
Ivy pulled the blanket over her shoulders, while Lynnpulled on his pants, walked over, and looked through the peephole.
Then he sighed and pulled the door open.
Hill stood in the hallway, wearing a black trench coat and twirling car keys in her hand.
Her gaze swept past Lynn's shoulders and landed on Ivyon the bed. Her expression didn't change much, except for a very slight lift of her eyebrows.
"Harry Osborn has escaped,"
Hill said,
"Six hours ago. He left a note for you, saying the worker bee wants to see the Queen Bee."
"Romantic,"
Ivy propped herself up at the head of the bed and replied lazily,
"Are confessions from kids nowadays this horrifying?"
"It's not a confession, it's tracking,"
Hill walked in and tossed a scan on the table,
"He's moving within a three-kilometer radius of you. Furywants you to relocate, either to Stark Tower or a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house."
Lynn picked up the scan, and before he could finish reading it, the door was knocked on again.
Natasha stood at the doorway with her red hair loose, dangling a folder in her hand, smiling like a cat that had just stolen a fish:
"What a coincidence. Gwen asked me to deliver tomorrow's checkup instructions. She said you wouldn't answer your phone or reply to messages, suspected of being out of contact."
She walked in, her gaze sweeping around the room—
Lynn's pants, Ivy's silk shirt, the glowing crystal on the table—
and she let out a whistle:
"Looks like I interrupted a shareholders' meeting?"
"No,"
Lynn took the folder,
"The meeting has just entered the Q&A session."
Ivy got out of bed, stepping barefoot on the carpet, poured herself a glass of wine, and poured another for Natasha:
"Romanoff, care for a drink? Sokovia's whiskey packs a serious kick."
"I don't drink during work hours,"
Natasha placed the folder next to the crystal, tilting her head to look at the blue glow,
"Is this the specialty? What is it doing? Breathing?"
"It's waiting for the Queen Bee,"
Ivy took a sip of her wine, "Just like Harry."
Hill picked up the crystal and examined it against the light:
"Fury's lab wants this. Name your terms."
"Not happening,"
Ivy said,
"This is my investment."
"What investment?"
"An investment in the Queen Bee,"
Ivy looked at Lynn, the corners of her mouth curving slightly,
"I'm investing in long-term shares, and I don't accept institutional mergers."
Hill put down the crystal and looked at Lynn:
"What's your take?"
Lynn stuffed the checkup instructions into a drawer and picked up his shirt to put it on:
"I'll take the crystal. Ivy, continue investigating its energy source. Hill, drive to Stark Tower. Natasha, take the rear guard and see what Harry is up to."
"What if he attacks?"
Natasha asked.
"Knock him out,"
Lynn buttoned up his shirt,
"Just don't kill him. The map in his head isn't fully drawn yet."
The three women spoke at the same time:
"I'm going with you to the tower."
Hill.
"I'm going with you to find Harry."
Natasha.
"I'm going back to my safe house,"
Ivy swirled her glass,
"but call me anytime. My phone is on twenty-four hours a day."
Lynn looked at them and suddenly laughed.
It wasn't the kind of perfunctory smile, but one of genuine amusement at how absurd yet logical the scene before him was.
"My dream,"
he said,
"I didn't finish earlier. Let me complete it now: I want all three of you, plus Gwen, plus everything I'm responsible for. I want it all. Not a single one missing. So stop arguing, take your positions, meeting adjourned."
Ivy was the first to laugh out loud, finished her wine, and turned her glass upside down on the table:
"Fine. The shareholders' resolution passes."
Natasha picked up the folder and patted him on the chest:
"Tomorrow at 3:00 PM, checkup. Gwen said if you're a minute late, she'll sedate you."
Hill had already walked to the door and looked back at him:
"The car is downstairs. You have two minutes to get dressed."
The door closed behind her.
Natasha followed her out, turning back to wink as she reached the hallway.
The room quieted down. Ivy hugged Lynn from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder:
"Do you really want all of it?"
"Since I'm already here,"
Lynn said,
"it would be unreasonable to go back empty-handed."
"Then I wish you a good appetite,"
Ivy let go of him and began packing her things,
"Mr. Queen Bee."
Downstairs, the black SUV had already started.
Hill was in the driver's seat, and Natasha was leaning against the passenger door outside, messaging on her phone.
Lynn got into the back seat, rolled down the window, and looked up at the twenty-seventh floor.
That window was still lit; Ivy's shadow flickered behind the curtains and then went out.
"Leaving?"
Hill asked.
"Left,"
Lynn said.
Natasha climbed into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt:
"Gwen just messaged me back, saying she moved the checkup equipment to Stark Tower. Pepper approved it, saying the tower's medical room is brighter than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s."
"Pepper is quite hands-on these days,"
Lynn said.
"Pepper manages the legal and administrative affairs of all of Stark Industries,"
Hill started the car,
"She's scarier than Fury."
The car glided out of the hotel driveway and merged into the night of New York.
Natasha suddenly glanced at Lynn through the rearview mirror:
"Were you serious about the dream you mentioned earlier?"
Lynn looked out the window, the lights looking like a backward-flowing river.
"Serious,"
he said,
"Not a single one can be missing."
Hill's fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and she said nothing.
Natasha let out a laugh and turned her head to look out the window.
The car stopped at the first red light.
Hill pulled a piece of chocolate from the storage compartment and tossed it to the back seat:
"Pepper left it, saying people with low blood sugar talk nonsense easily."
Lynn caught it, tore open the package, and took a bite. It was sweet.
"Thanks," he said.
Hill looked ahead, the green light turned on, and she stepped on the accelerator:
"You're welcome. Queen Bee."
Chapter 54 Paper
Harry sat on the sofa in the lobby of Stark Tower, hands on his knees, back straight, like an intern waiting for an interview.
The security guards formed a semicircle, stun guns pointed at his chest, but he didn't even look, his eyes fixed on the elevator door.
The elevator opened, Lynn walked out, followed by Hilland Natasha.
Harry stood up, the corners of his mouth tugged into a gentle smile:
"Queen Bee. I am here to report."
"I am not hiring people,"
Lynn walked over and sat down opposite him,
"Especially not ones that bite."
"I don't bite,"
Harry lowered his head, his voice softening,
"At least not now. The one inside me... he is a bit noisy, but I can still hold him down."
His fingers tapped on his knees, his nails turning cyan, but his movements were very restrained.
Natasha leaned against the pillar, arms crossed:
"He tore apart two S.H.I.E.L.D. guards six hours ago, and now he is like a good student. Not bad acting."
"It's not acting,"
Harry looked up, a trace of green flashing in his pupils, quickly fading back to grayish-blue,
"It's partition management. I locked the anger in the Underground Room and swallowed the key. Unless you provoke him, he won't come out."
Gwen walked over from the other end of the corridor, holding a tablet computer, followed by Ivy.
The two walked side by side, their blonde and red hair swaying under the light, like two differently colored alarms.
"The spectrum analysis matches,"
Ivy threw a document on the coffee table, without looking at Lynn, and said directly to Gwen,
"The overlap between the crystal frequency and Harry's brainwaves is forty-seven percent. It's not completely synchronized, it's like... the difference between a dialect and Mandarin."
"Where is Peter?"
Gwen asked.
"His resonance is only three percent,"
Ivy's fingertip swiped across the tablet,
"Almost negligible. But if the link is not severed, this three percent will slowly rise."
Gwen frowned and lowered her head to send a message to Peter.
Three seconds later, she looked up:
"He says he is counting pigeons on the rooftop opposite. Sixty-three of them."
"Let him keep counting,"
Hill said,
"Don't come down and cause trouble."
The door slid open at this moment.
A woman walked in, wearing a Military uniform, with short hair, carrying a worn leather briefcase.
She glanced at the formation in the lobby—security guards, Agents, a young man with a green face sitting on the sofa—without even frowning, and walked straight to the reception desk.
"Betty Ross,"
She showed her ID,
"Military Scientific Research Liaison Office. I am looking for Tony Stark, regarding a consultation on the gamma radiation defense project."
Tony's voice came from upstairs, accompanied by the hum of the elevator descending:
"The Military again? Radiation again? Can't you guys change a word, like 'peaceful use'?"
The elevator door opened, Tony walked out holding a cup of coffee, and when he saw Betty, he was stunned for a moment:
"Oh, General Ross's daughter. Your dad just called last week to curse my armor as 'wasting taxpayers' money', and today he sent you to collect venue fees?"
"I am not here to collect money,"
Betty's voice was steady, but her fingers gripped the briefcase strap tightly,
"I am here for help."
She turned to Lynn, her gaze lingering on his face for a second, as if confirming something:
"You are Leon Stark? I read your internal briefing on cross-species genetic compatibility. Very... bold."
"It was retracted,"
Lynn said.
"The Military did it,"
Betty nodded,
"They don't like bold."
She took a deep breath, pulled a document from her briefcase, and placed it on the coffee table.
The cover of the document was printed with "Top Secret", but the corners were already curled.
"My colleague,"
Betty paused,
"My boyfriend, Dr. Banner."
He was engaged in private research in Brazil concerning gamma radiation and cellular regeneration.
A week ago, his laboratory was blown up. The Military said it was an accident, but I know it wasn't. Someone is hunting him down."
Tony picked up the document, flipped through it, and whistled:
"An arrest warrant personally approved by General Ross? Wow, family conflicts have risen to a national level."
"My dad thinks Banner's research is a weapon,"
Betty's voice lowered,
"But Banner just wants to cure himself. He just wants to... turn back into a normal person. It's just that sometimes, the cure grows fangs."
Lynn looked at the photo on the document.
Bruce Banner, thin, gentle, with a tiredness in his eyes as if he was ready to apologize at any time.
He realized that the plot point had arrived.
"Dr. Banner,"
Lynn began,
"I have read his paper on cellular regeneration and the boundary effects of gamma rays. The retracted one."
Betty looked up in surprise:
"You've read it? That article was only published for three days."
"I am used to reading retracted ones,"
Lynn said,
"They usually have more substance."
The corners of Betty's mouth curved, a brief, tired, but genuine smile:
"Thank you. He... he is a good person, just unlucky."
"Luck can be changed,"
Lynn said.
Harry suddenly moved.
He stared at Betty, his pupils dilated, making a rattling sound in his throat, like an old engine starting up:
"Different... this one... is a wild bee... no Hive... bleeding..."
Lynn reached out and pressed Harry's shoulder, with a moderate force:
"Quiet. This is not your scene."
Harry shivered, and the green light in his pupils receded.
He lowered his head and turned back into that good student:
"Sorry. I... I smelled it. The thing inside him is different from me. No link, no homing instinct. Just... anger. Pure anger."
"Dr. Banner is not your kind,"
Betty said, her voice carrying a trace of protective sharpness.
"Not yet,"
Ivy interrupted from the side, leaning against the edge of the table, shaking her wine glass,
"But the crystal shows that Cassandra has an appetite for high-energy mutants. Gamma, serum, spider venom... in her eyes, they are all a buffet."
"Then let's not let her start the feast,"
Tony closed the document and threw it back onto the coffee table,
"Betty, stay for lunch. Pepper made salad today, although it tastes bad, it's safe. As for Brazil..."
He looked at Lynn.
Lynn stood up and said to Betty:
"If you need an unofficial channel to find Dr. Banner, I can provide one."
"Why?"
Betty asked.
"Because a retracted paper,"
Lynn said, "is worth publishing a second time."
Betty looked at him, then at Harry, and finally nodded:
"Thank you. But please don't hurt him. When he is scared, he hurts others. But he is even more afraid of hurting others."
"I understand,"
Lynn said.
Gwen walked over at this moment and shoved the tablet computer into Lynn's hands:
"The inspection equipment is ready. But if you want to fly to Brazil now, I suggest you postpone the blood draw until tomorrow."
"Postpone it,"
Lynn said.
"Then I will postpone it with you,"
Gwen said, her voice very soft, but firm,
"As for the swarm code, Ivy and I will continue to follow up. You go to Brazil and bring the wild bee back. Not hunting, but..."
"It's interception,"
Ivy added with a grin from the side, then raised an eyebrow at Gwen,
"Right, shareholder?"
Gwen didn't smile, but she didn't refute either.
Natasha straightened up from beside the pillar and clapped her hands:
"Brazil? Rio de Janeiro? I know it well. Hill, are you staying behind or coming along?"
Hill glanced at Lynn, then at Betty, and finally said:
"I'm staying behind. New York needs someone to watch Harry, and..."
She paused,
"... watch Peter. That kid will definitely follow after he finishes counting pigeons."
"Let him follow,"
Lynn said,
"There are few pigeons in Brazil, he will naturally come down when he gets bored."
A slight sound like glass friction suddenly rang out in the lobby.
Everyone looked up and saw a wisp of red web hanging on the edge of the ceiling vent, swaying, and retracting.
Gwen looked down at her phone, and there was a new message on the screen:
"The pigeons flew away. I'm going to find new ones."
Gwen sighed and looked up to say to Lynn:
"He has already followed you."
Lynn looked at the disappearing web and rubbed his brow.
Betty stood aside, finally showing the first truly relaxed expression of the night:
"Are people in your Stark Family... and friends all so special?"
"Not friends,"
Tony bit the rim of his coffee cup and said vaguely,
"They are shareholders. Stark Industries now has changed its business to recruit weird creatures."
Chapter 55 Wild Bee
Rio de Janeiro, on the edge of the favela.
Harry climbed out of the car, took a deep breath, and his expression changed instantly.
He covered his nose, as if he smelled something rotting.
"Here?"
Natasha closed the car door, her hand resting on the gun at her lower back.
"Down there,"
Harry pointed at the cluster of tin buildings at the end of the slope,
"He is bleeding. Not real blood, it's gamma. It tastes like… scorched copper."
Lynn followed closely, not wearing a suit, having changed into a dark gray work shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows:
"Can you track him?"
"Yes,"
Harry nodded, a flash of green light crossing his pupils,
"But he is very scared. When he is scared, the taste turns bitter."
Natasha brought up the tablet:
"Bronski's men are still gathering at the port, at least forty minutes. That's enough time for us to drink a cup of Water."
"I'm not thirsty,"
Harry said,
"I want to meet this wild bee without a Hive."
The clinic was hidden between two tin houses, a faded red cross hanging at the entrance.
Banner was sitting inside, his lab coat washed to a grayish tint, applying a fever patch to a child.
He was terribly thin, his wrist bones prominent, yet his movements were very gentle.
The door was pushed open, and the bell chimed.
Banner looked up and saw Lynn walk in, followed by Natasha and Harry.
His gaze lingered on Harry's face for a second, then shifted back to Lynn.
"People from the Stark Family,"
Banner's voice was very soft, carrying a gentleness ready to apologize at any moment,
"I've seen you in the newspaper. But you are… quieter than in the photos."
"Photos can lie,"
Lynn sat down across the clinic desk,
"And I lie too."
Banner pressed the fever patch down properly and asked the child's mother to take the child away.
The door closed.
"You aren't here to see a doctor,"
Banner took off his gloves,
"The Military has surrounded the outside for three days, but they don't dare to come in.
The favela is too complex, and acting rashly would alert the media. So you are here to… harvest early?"
"Here to deliver a cage,"
Lynn said.
Banner was stunned for a moment.
Harry took a step forward and sniffed:
"This is it. The wild bee. No link, no homing, only… pure bitterness."
Banner looked at Harry, his pupils contracting slightly:
"You… are you the same as me?"
"Not the same,"
Harry shook his head,
"I have a Queen Bee. You don't. You only have yourself, and that green guy who is always roaring."
"You can hear him?"
Banner's voice trembled slightly.
"Yes,"
Harry said,
"He is saying… smash everything. But he is also very tired and wants to sleep, he just can't fall asleep."
Banner braced his hands on the clinic desk, his knuckles turning white. He looked at Lynn:
"You have a monster inside you too. I can smell it. But yours… has a cage."
"You can learn,"
Lynn said,
"If you are willing."
A muffled sound came from outside the window.
Natasha pulled open a corner of the curtain and looked back:
"Bronski is early. Fifteen men, surrounding from the east side. And two armored vehicles blocking the intersection."
Lynn stood up:
"Is there a back door?"
"Yes,"
Banner pointed to the hidden door at the back of the clinic,
"It leads to the sewer, and then behind the hillside. But I can't leave, these villagers…"
"I'll handle the villagers,"
Natasha had already drawn her gun,
"You take him and go. Harry, you cover the rear, don't bite anyone."
"I'll try,"
Harry licked his lips, his pupils beginning to turn green.
Banner grabbed Lynn's wrist with great force:
"Are you sure? Once I lose control, this place will turn into ruins."
"You won't lose control,"
Lynn said,
"Because this time someone is holding you down."
The hidden door opened, and a damp wind poured in.
A faint sound of spider silk rubbing suddenly came from the ceiling.
Peter hung upside down from the ventilation duct, his red and blue battle suit stained with dust, the pattern around the mask's eyes skewed by a bit.
"Mr. Stark,"
Peter's voice was muffled,
"The view from the roof is nice, but I finished counting the pigeons.
Sixty-four. There was one extra, flying in from the port, I guess it's a reconnaissance pigeon from the Military."
Gwen's voice leaked out from Peter's earpiece, carrying static noise, clear enough for everyone present to hear:
"Peter Parker, I can see your location.
If you don't leave the roof right now, I will post the sewing video of your battle suit online."
"Gwen?"
Peter jerked his head up and bumped into the ventilation duct,
"How did you…"
"I hacked into your earpiece,"
Gwen said, her voice carrying a weary gentleness,
"Now, listen to Lynn, take him and go. Don't play hero, don't get heatstroke, don't vomit inside the suit. Can you do that?"
"…Yes,"
Peter's voice grew quieter,
"But you owe me an explanation."
"We'll talk when we get back,"
Gwen said,
"Now, do what you are supposed to do."
Peter released his web, dropped to the ground, and stood next to Lynn:
"The back door, right? I'll cover the rear. I… I have plenty of web."
Lynn glanced at him and didn't object. He turned to Banner:
"Let's go."
Banner took one last look at the clinic, grabbed the worn briefcase on the desk, and followed Lynn into the hidden door.
Harry walked at the very back, his body trembling, the Green Goblin's whispers and the roar of the gamma inside Banner clashing back and forth in his head.
He supported himself against the wall, his fingernails digging into the brick crevices.
"Queen Bee,"
Harry panted,
"The smell of the wild bee… is too strong…"
"Hold it in,"
Lynn looked back and said,
"I'll buy you ice cream when we get back."
"…I want two scoops."
"Three."
The hidden door closed behind them.
Natasha stayed in the clinic, flipped the red cross sign over, hung up a wooden sign reading "Closed", and then sat behind the clinic desk,
and began attaching a silencer to her pistol.
When Bronski's men kicked the door open, they only saw a red-haired woman sitting on a chair with her legs crossed,
twirling a loaded gun in her hand.
"Good afternoon,"
Natasha said,
"Please make an appointment for medical consultations."
Chapter 56 Cage
In the abandoned warehouse behind the hillside, Bannersat leaning against the wall, his wrist wrapped in the pulse monitor given by Lynn, the beeping sound growing increasingly rapid.
The collar of his shirt was soaked with sweat, and a pale green flush emerged beneath his skin, like moss seeping out from his bones.
Peter squatted by the broken window, peeking outside:
"Armored vehicles, two of them, blocking the intersection completely. At least ten rifles, and two dogs."
"Not dogs,"
Harry stood behind the door, his nose pressed against the gap in the wooden planks, his voice muffled,
"They're sniffers, for tracking gamma. They're very excited, like bears smelling honey."
Banner tugged at his collar, breathing heavily:
"I can't control it anymore... Every time my heart rate exceeds one hundred and eighty, he will..."
"Then don't control it,"
Lynn squatted down, pressing a palm firmly onto Banner's shoulder with steady force,
"Invite him. Tell him he can come out, but he can only hit the people who deserve to be hit."
Banner raised his head, his pupils already starting to turn green:
"You... you understand this?"
"I understand monsters,"
Lynn said,
"Everyone has one. Mine is just a bit quieter."
New York, Stark Tower monitoring room.
Betty sat in front of the screen, her hands clutching a cup of coffee that had already gone cold.
The footage came from the micro-camera on Natasha's helmet, the angle a bit shaky, but clear enough.
She watched Banner's skin turn green bit by bit, watched his knuckles expand, the bulging veins looking like black tree roots.
"Heart rate two hundred and one,"
Gwen stood nearby, her fingers sliding rapidly across the tablet,
"Gamma critical threshold breached. He's... changing."
Betty's knuckles turned white, and the coffee cup let out a slight creaking sound.
Ivy leaned against the edge of the table, shaking her own tablet:
"Relax, Betty. Your boyfriend is just molting. Some men get like that when they reach a certain age."
"That's not Bruce,"
Betty's voice trembled, her tears smashing against the rim of the coffee cup,
"That's... that thing. I spent ten years telling myself that wasn't him.
But just now... that look he gave the camera, I knew Brucewas still inside, just... covered up."
Hill stood in the back, her arms crossed, her gaze locked firmly on the bottom right corner of the screen.
There was Lynn's profile, squatting in front of Banner, his lips moving as if saying something.
"Lynn is holding him down,"
Hill spoke, her voice as flat as a steel plate,
"If Banner loses control, Lynn will be the first one to be sent flying. But he hasn't retreated."
Betty looked at the screen, looking at Lynn's hand pressing on Banner's shoulder.
That hand was steady, too steady for someone facing a monster about to explode.
"Why isn't he running?"
Betty murmured to herself.
Gwen glanced at her without answering, simply handing over a tissue.
Brazil, inside the warehouse.
Banner's body emitted a muffled sound of dislocating bones, his shirt tore, and his skin turned completely grayish-green.
But the expected roar did not arrive.
What he let out was a low whimpering sound, as if squeezed from deep underground, and then he opened his eyes.
Those eyes were fluorescent green, but his pupils were focused.
He looked down at his own hands, then looked at Lynn, surprisingly not throwing a punch.
"L—Lynn?"
Hulk's voice sounded like two boulders grinding against each other.
"Yeah, it's me,"
Lynn stood up, looking up at the green giant standing over two meters tall,
"Remember the cage? We're going to build one now.
Those people in military uniforms outside, they want to lock you in a real cage. Do you want that?"
Hulk tilted his head, a low hiss rolling from his throat. Then, he shook his head.
Natasha's voice came from outside the door, accompanied by the soft click of a silenced pistol being loaded:
"Lynn, they're coming in. Twenty seconds."
"Peter, seal the door with web,"
Lynn didn't turn back,
"Harry, tell me, which car is Bronski's?"
Harry closed his eyes and sniffed:
"The one on the left. The biggest one. He's inside, it smells terrible, like... like jealousy. He wants this power so badly he's driving himself crazy."
"Hulk,"
Lynn pointed at the wall, "That car on the left, the green one, smash it flat.
Then come back, and I'll buy you juice."
Hulk grinned, revealing deformed teeth, then turned around, crashing through the wall like a cannonball as he rushed out.
Instantly, the sounds of metal tearing as armored vehicles were overturned came from outside, along with Bronski's distorted roar.
Peter poked his head out from the broken window, his voice floating:
"He... he lifted the car over his head. He threw it. Threw it really far."
"Stop looking,"
Lynn threw a spare jacket to Peter,
"Prepare the retreat route. Natasha, rendezvous at the west intersection in three minutes."
"Received,"
Natasha chuckled in the comms channel,
"Hulk is chasing Bronski, and that guy is running faster than a rabbit."
Harry leaned against the doorway and suddenly said:
"It stopped. Hulk stopped. He's... turning back?"
Heavy footsteps approached.
The hole in the wall was blocked by a huge green figure, and Hulk walked in hunchbacked, with a few deformed bullets embedded in his body, but his wounds were slowly healing.
He walked up to Lynn, squatted down, and acted like a large dog waiting for instructions.
Lynn reached out and pressed his hand onto Hulk's forehead:
"Banner, come back. The cage is built, you can rest now."
Hulk's eyes slowly faded back to brown, his body shrank like a deflating balloon, his skin color lightened, and finally he changed back to Banner, shirtless, unconscious in Lynn's arms.
Peter's mouth hung open, unable to close for a long time.
"Close the door,"
Lynn hoisted Banner over his shoulder,
"Let's go."
New York, monitoring room.
The screen went dark.
Natasha turned off her helmet camera.
Betty was still sitting there, her fingers unconsciously rubbing against the rim of the cup.
Her tears had dried, but her gaze was still drifting, falling onto the pitch-black screen, as if she could still see that final scene—
Lynn supporting the unconscious Banner, firelight dancing behind him, while his profile was as calm as if he had just finished an afternoon tea.
Gwen packed up her tablet and casually said:
"He's fine. The gamma readings dropped by forty percent after Lynn made contact, and that's not something medicine can explain."
"What is it then?"
Betty asked.
"I don't know,"
Gwen paused,
"Maybe... some kind of resonance. There's also something inside Lynn, but he's learned how to be a cage."
Ivy walked over and placed a data pad in front of Betty, displaying the energy curve of Hulk's transformation:
"Betty, if you want to save Banner, maybe you should change your train of thought."
"What train of thought?"
"Approach the person who can hold down the monster,"
Ivy's voice was very soft, devoid of teasing, purely a statement,
"Learn how he does it.
Banner trusts you, but he trusts... the person who can keep him safe even more."
Betty looked at Lynn's energy signature on the data pad, then glanced at Ivy, and finally her gaze fell on Hill.
Hill didn't speak, simply turning around and walking towards the door, dropping a sentence:
"He returns to New York tomorrow night. If you want to learn, ask him yourself."
The door closed behind Hill.
Betty lowered her head, her fingers tapping gently on the data pad, as if confirming something.