Chapter 64: Takeoff
Stark Industries tarmac, 6:00 AM.
The wind was strong. Tony helped Lynn fasten the buckles of his exoskeleton, the sound of metal clashing crisp and clear.
"The oxygen valve is right here,"
Tony patted the side of his shoulder,
"Don't go twisting it randomly, or you'll be waltzing at eight thousand meters high."
Pepper held a tablet computer, standing three paces away:
"The Nepal supply point has been confirmed, and Fury's men have been waiting there for twelve hours."
The tablet screen was lit up, Fury's single eye filling the display:
"The supplies include three days' rations and spare batteries. Any higher up, S.H.I.E.L.D. can't help either."
"I wasn't counting on your help,"
Lynn moved his shoulders slightly. The fit of the exoskeleton was very good,
"As long as you don't shoot me in the back."
Fury smiled slightly, though the corners of his mouth didn't move:
"I prefer shooting from the front."
Natasha walked out from the shadows of the hangar, tossing a dagger in her hand, catching it, and handing it to Lynn:
"It's been modified, with a gamma coating on the blade edge. If something behind the door tries to bite you, stab it first and ask questions later."
Lynn took it and slipped it into his calf strap:
"Where's Hill?"
"Washington, in a meeting,"
Natasha pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket—handwritten, covered in dense numbers—
"She organized these emergency communication frequencies. If you get lost in the mountains, shout towards these channels, and someone will eventually hear you."
Lynn tucked the paper into the inner pocket:
"Say thanks for me."
"Say it yourself,"
Natasha turned and walked towards the cabin,
"Talk about it when you get back."
Harry sat at the cabin door, legs dangling, his nose tilted toward the north:
"They're waiting. The sounds are so uniform, like… a choir practicing the exact same note."
Lynn followed him up and sat down beside him.
The transport plane's engine started up, the roar filling their eardrums. Natasha sat opposite them, lowering her head to clean her gun.
"Where's Gwen?"
Harry suddenly asked.
"The lab," Lynn fastened his seatbelt,
"Decoding the files with Peter."
"If she's not coming,"
Harry tilted his head,
"You should leave her a message. Just in case…"
"There is no just in case,"
Lynn said,
"I already did. Said it last night."
Natasha didn't even raise her head:
"What did you say?"
"Defaulting on a debt,"
Lynn looked out the window as the tarmac slipped away below,
"She's latched onto me. I have to come back to pay her back."
The plane climbed, piercing through the clouds.
Harry closed his eyes, his fingers tapping a certain rhythm on his knees, faster and faster.
Natasha reassembled the cleaned gun with a sharp click:
"Status?"
"Getting closer,"
Harry said,
"They're excited. Like… bees smelling the scent of the Queen Bee."
"Then let them smell it,"
Lynn said,
"Don't be in a rush to sting."
Three hours later, turbulence.
The plane shook violently, red lights flashing.
The pilot turned back and shouted:
"Low-pressure trough ahead, can't make it through! We must land!"
"Land,"
Lynn unbuckled his seatbelt.
The ice sheet.
Altitude six thousand meters.
The blizzard was like sandpaper, though not too heavy. The transport plane was wedged diagonally into the snow, its landing gear groaning under the unbearable load.
The three of them climbed down, their exoskeleton heating systems humming to life.
Natasha opened her compass, the needle spinning wildly:
"Geomagnetic anomaly."
"This way,"
Harry walked thirty meters forward, stopping in front of a snow slope. He scraped away the snow with both hands, revealing a metal door. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s eagle emblem was half-obscured by ice,
"An outpost. Built in 1987, abandoned in 1999."
Lynn crouched down, tapping the metal with the hilt of his dagger.
The echo was hollow; there was space underneath.
The door wasn't locked. Pushing it open, a stale wave of air rushed out, like opening an old book that had been left alone for a very long time.
The interior wasn't large, about twenty square meters. On the wall hung an old photo of Howard, much younger, standing in front of a propeller plane.
Natasha swept her flashlight across the tabletop: an experimental logbook with a cowhide cover, its lock completely rusted shut. She pried it open directly with the tip of her knife.
Lynn turned to the first page.
Howard's handwriting was very sloppy:
"ADAM sequence tracing, 17th record. The exogenous sequence does not belong to existing biological lineages.
It is not extraterrestrial; it is native, older than humanity. I call it the signature of the 'Predecessor Civilization'. Lynn is not a recipient, he is…"
The last line was smudged with ink and unreadable.
"What is he?"
Natasha asked.
"It wasn't finished,"
Lynn pointed at the smudge,
"Or it was intentionally blurred."
The phone vibrated at that moment.
It was a video request from Gwen.
Lynn connected. On the screen, Gwen's face was illuminated deathly white by the lab lights, with Peterstanding beside her, his glasses reflecting the light.
"We've decoded the blank chain,"
Gwen spoke very quickly,
"It's not missing, it's a receiver.
Lynn, embedded in your DNA is a keyhole. Whatever you're going to find up there… it's been waiting for the key."
Peter leaned in closer, his voice tight:
"That coordinate—Connors said there was a mountaineering team disappearance incident in the eighties.
Seven people, all missing, but their bodies were never found. Gwen is worried…"
"I'm not worried,"
Gwen interrupted him, looking at Lynn on the screen,
"I'm just notifying you. The debt you owe me has to be settled when you come back alive."
"Received,"
Lynn said,
"Keep decoding. If I find the lock, I'll take a picture for you."
"Don't just take pictures,"
Gwen said,
"Bring the lock back. I'll keep it safe for you."
The video call hung up.
Harry stood by the innermost wall of the outpost, his palm pressed against the ice surface before suddenly pulling back. A drop of blood dripped from his nose onto the floor, glaringly red:
"Below. Very deep. The door…"
Lynn walked over.
Natasha smashed open the ice with the butt of her gun, revealing an alloy plate underneath, engraved with spiral patterns almost identical to the shape of the blood vessels on his arm.
He crouched down, removed his glove, and touched it with his fingertips.
The patterns lit up with a pale blue light.
Harry knelt on the ground, holding his head with both hands, his voice squeezing out from between his teeth:
"Not a swarm… not human… something much older… It's breathing…"
Natasha raised her gun, aiming it at the alloy plate:
"Open it?"
Lynn looked at that light, his fingers not moving away:
"Open."
The light grew brighter and brighter.
The alloy plate let out a hiss of pressure release, like some creature sighing.
Chapter 65: The Sorcerer Supreme's Bill
The blue light pierced halfway through, then suddenly stopped.
It didn't go out; it froze.
The sizzling sound on the alloy plate caught in the throat, Harry's nosebleed hung from his chin, and Natasha's finger on the trigger remained completely motionless.
The entire sub-glacial space seemed to have been hit with a pause button, and even the temperature was locked.
Lynn found himself still squatting, but his shadow was gone.
"It's not a pause,"
A voice came from behind, very soft, like turning pages,
"It's you being pulled out."
Lynn stood up.
All around were shattered mirror surfaces, New Yorkstreets hung upside down overhead, and the wind and snow of the Himalayas flowed within the glass beneath his feet.
A woman in yellow robes stood three steps away, bald, holding nothing in her hands, but sparks were spinning at her fingertips.
"Ancient One,"
Lynn said,
"Sorcerer Supreme."
"You know me,"
Ancient One tilted her head,
"I don't know you. Or rather, I can't see you."
"What do you mean?"
"Time is a river,"
Ancient One walked closer, the sparks at her fingertips circling around him without burning his skin,
"I can see the ripples stirred up by every stone."
"But you are not a stone; you are a hole at the bottom of the river. The water flows past, disappears, and leaves no reflection."
Lynn looked down at his own hands:
"Then am I a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Invisible, so I don't know,"
Ancient One's lips curved slightly,
"But the light shining through the crack is warm. Hopefully, it's good."
As she finished speaking, she suddenly reached out and tapped him between the eyebrows.
It didn't hurt, like being touched by a cold coin.
"Want to learn magic?"
There was a buzzing sound in his brain.
[Triggered Special Event: Sorcerer Supreme's Invitation]
[Option A: Accept the magic inheritance. Reward: Small storage space (20 cubic meters, soul-bound, cannot be dropped)]
[Option B: Reject. Reward: None]
[Note: This choice does not affect the main storyline, only affecting the host's carrying convenience.]
Lynn flipped through the description of '20 cubic meters' in his mind, as if he suddenly had an extra invisible empty room on him.
"Learn,"
he said,
"But I don't have time for class right now. Put it on my tab first, I'll make it up when I get back."
Ancient One withdrew her hand, and the sparks extinguished:
"The doors of Kamar-Taj will not remain open forever."
"However... that clump of noise inside your body is very interesting."
"Like many people's... echoes. I'll borrow it occasionally as interest."
"As long as you don't use it to pay off the mortgage,"
Lynn said,
"Borrow all you want."
Ancient One let out a laugh, very short, like a bell shaking for a moment:
"Go back, Mr. Key. The thing behind the door is still breathing, don't keep it waiting too long."
She snapped her fingers.
Lynn's vision went black.
Time resumed its flow.
The sizzling sound continued, and the blue light continued to climb upward.
Lynn blinked, finding himself still squatting in front of the alloy plate, his fingertips numb.
Natasha's gun was still pointing at the ground, but her eyes slanted over:
"You froze for two seconds."
"Just spaced out,"
Lynn stood up, but clearly 'perceived' a square void in his mind, which could be opened at any time to put things in,
"Thought of an old debt."
"We'll settle it when we get back,"
Natasha removed her spare oxygen mask and tossed it to Harry,
"The shaft is open, let's go."
The alloy plate slid completely open, revealing a vertical opening. The inner walls had spiral patterns, just like the ones on the metal plate, but deeper, resembling the esophagus of some creature.
Natasha took the lead, with a rope buckled around her waist, climbing down along the protrusions of the inner wall. Harry went second, his mask fastened tightly, his breathing sounding heavy in the communication channel.
Lynn brought up the rear without a rope, his fingers digging into the spiral grooves. The grip strength granted by the serum allowed him to slide down the cold metal like a gecko.
The oxygen grew thinner, the exoskeleton readings began to alarm, and the red light flashed.
He turned off the alarm and gritted it out. Black spots appeared at the edge of his vision, and then the black spots gathered into a shape
a person identical to him, standing deep in the shaft, with golden pupils, looking up at him, corners of the mouth moving without any sound.
The hallucination lasted for five seconds and then disappeared.
The bottom was a sub-glacial cavity, ten times larger than the one above. Suspended in the center was a transparent culture tank, empty, with dried traces of nutrient solution hanging on the inner walls like tear stains.
Words were engraved on the bottom of the tank, and Natasha's flashlight shone upon them:
ADAM-0, retrieval failed.
Harry took off his oxygen mask, his nose twitching, his face turning pale:
"The scent... is the same as yours. But older, like blood that's been left out for a long time."
Lynn approached the culture tank, his fingers wiping across that line of text.
There was a sudden static crackle in the communication channel, and Howard's recording played automatically, his voice even more exhausted than the one at the outpost:
"Lynn, if you find this place, it means you have already accomplished the thing I feared most"
"You have come back."
"ADAM is not a project name, it is Adam, the first. But before the first, there was the zeroth."
"You are the key, and you are also the lock. Don't let them... plug you into the wrong door."
The recording ended.
Natasha lowered her gun and looked at Lynn:
"ADAM-0. Do you have a brother?"
"Or a father,"
Lynn said,
"Or an ancestor."
Harry suddenly dropped to his knees, supporting himself with both hands, and his nosebleed dripped down again, thicker this time.
He looked up, his pupils glowing with a green light, his voice trembling:
"Queen Bee... It's moving. Not here, it's to the east, very high up. It's crawling."
"How high?"
"More than two thousand meters higher than here,"
Harry panted,
"It's waiting. Waiting for the key to be plugged in."
Lynn pulled out his dagger, its gamma coating gleaming faintly in the darkness.
He glanced at Natasha, then at the track marks extending from the bottom of the culture tank,
pointing straight to a crack in the eastern rock wall.
"Then let's go plug it in,"
he said,
"Let's see what is really kept inside that lock."
Chapter 66 Going Down the Mountain
Lynn crouched in front of the culture chamber, his fingertips smearing a bit of black residue, viscous, like dried serum.
"Take the sample,"
Natasha drew a sealed tube from her waist,
"and have Banner test it back home."
Lynn didn't take it.
He stared at the patch of trace, the invisible square hollow in his mind growing slightly warm.
With a thought from him, the black traces along with the metal scraping piece vanished, stored away into the storage space.
The ground was completely clean, as if wiped by an eraser.
Natasha's sealed tube was still suspended in mid-air:
"...Where is the thing?"
"Tuition,"
Lynn stood up, patting the dust off his knees,
"paid for the magic lesson."
"When did you take a class?"
"Two seconds ago,"
Lynn said,
"a crash course opened by the Ancient One."
Harry leaned against the bulkhead, his nosebleed dry, his face still pale.
He raised his head, the green light in his pupils not yet faded:
"It left. Southeast direction, very fast. Not flying, it's... jumping. Every step is heavy, but the landing is very light."
"How tall?"
"A bit shorter than the Hulk,"
Harry gestured,
"but more... solid than the Hulk. Like all its parts fit together seamlessly."
Natasha tucked the sealed tube back into her waist, no longer questioning where the sample went.
She pressed her headset:
"Hill, can you hear me?"
Static noise.
Then Hill's voice cut in, with keyboard clicking sounds in the background, more urgent than usual:
"I'm here. What's the situation down there?"
"ADAM-0 ran away,"
Natasha said,
"headed down the mountain. We need the fastest return route."
"Return?"
Hill paused,
"Just in time. Gwen received a text message that you guys need to see."
With a crackle in the channel, Tony cut in, with the humming of mechanical arms in the background:
"What trouble did my brother make again? Wait, don't answer yet, let me guess. He found out he's not an only child, and that long-lost brother has a terrible temper."
"Not a brother,"
Lynn said,
"It's a backup. Older than me."
"A backup?"
Tony gave a chuckle, but quickly stopped it,
"Fine, worse. The DNA comparison result of the man in the photo is out, 99% matching with you, but the telomere length shows the cell age is at least eighty years old. When Howard created you in the eighties, he used his cells as a blueprint?"
"He did,"
Lynn walked outward,
"but he didn't tell me the blueprint ran out on its own."
Gwen's voice suddenly popped out from the background, carrying a hint of unsuppressible tremor:
"Lynn, the photo was taken on the streets of New York. Within seventy-two hours. He's in the city."
"I know,"
Lynn said,
"he's looking for the door."
"What door?"
"Me,"
Lynn said,
"or Stark Tower. Or all of you."
The channel was quiet for a few seconds.
Then came Peter, his voice tight, but trying hard to remain steady:
"Dr. Banner said, if ADAM-0 is of the same origin as you, he might also be able to sense the swarm. Harry sensed him, and perhaps he can also reverse-locate Harry."
"He has already located us,"
Harry said softly,
"he's always known where we are. Just wasn't interested in coming up to say hello."
Natasha tossed the rope into the shaft:
"Then let's go back. Uninvited guests have arrived, and we need to go back and close the door."
"Leave the door open,"
Lynn grabbed the rope, looking back at the empty culture chamber,
"just change the lock."
The transport plane was waiting on the ice field, its engines running.
The three of them climbed into the cabin hatch, and Lynntore off his exoskeleton mask, panting heavily.
Natasha tossed him a bottle of water; he unscrewed it, drank half, and poured the other half over his head.
Harry sat in the corner, a crumpled piece of paper spread across his knees, which was the photo printout sent by Gwen. The hoodie-wearing man looked back at the lens, his golden pupils glowing gray in the black-and-white printout.
"He is smiling,"
Harry said,
"the corners of his mouth didn't move, but his eyes are smiling. Like... like a smile upon seeing food."
Lynn took the photo, squeezed it in his hand, and then stored it into the storage space. The photo vanished in his palm.
Natasha raised an eyebrow:
"This trick is convenient. Can it hold living things?"
"Haven't tried,"
Lynn said,
"next time I'll catch a Hydra agent and put it in to see."
"Remember to leave air holes."
Hill came back online in the channel, her voice steadier than before:
"The return route is cleared, direct flight to New York. Furyasks whether to raise the city's alert level."
"Raise it,"
Lynn said,
"but don't startle the snake. If he wants to come in, let him come in. We'll wait for him inside."
"Are you sure?"
Hill asked.
"Not sure,"
Lynn leaned against the bulkhead, closing his eyes,
"but deadbeats always have to go home. I owe too much, I can't die outside."
Gwen's voice cut in softly:
"Then you remember, I'm still on the ledger. Don't default on it."
"Won't default,"
Lynn said, "I'll pay it back as soon as we get back."
Tony muttered at the end of the channel:
"Can you guys wait until we get off the plane to flirt? The signal on my end is getting too cheesy."
Pepper's voice drifted over:
"Tony, shut up. Lynn, come back safely."
The plane climbed, piercing through the clouds.
Harry finally fell asleep.
Lynn looked out the window, the snow-capped mountains receding.
With a thought from him, the storage space opened, inside which lay the tube of black sample and the photo.
The two items floated quietly in the void, like two mines waiting to be detonated.
Chapter 67 Wanda
Lynn threw the exoskeleton onto the floor of Stark Tower. Before the metallic crashing sound had faded, Hill's call cut in.
"Just landed?"
"Just landed."
"Don't take off your shoes. Sokovia, the Hydra base, satellite captured the energy readings of the Scepter two hours ago. Fury wants you guys to put out the fire."
"The Scepter?"
Tony's voice drifted out from the laboratory speaker,
"It's been missing from the S.H.I.E.L.D. warehouse for three years, and turns out it was visiting relatives in Europe?"
"Strucker has it,"
Hill said,
"He is doing human experiments. And it succeeded. We saw enhanced soldiers patrolling the streets, plus two kids, very fast, with chaotic energy fields."
Lynn put down his water cup:
"Address."
"Sent to your plane,"
Hill paused,
"Natasha is waiting for you at the airport. Harry is staying behind; he sensed something moving underground in New York and has to keep an eye on ADAM-0."
"What about ADAM-0?"
"Leave it alone for now,"
Hill's voice was very calm,
"If it wants to tear down the building, Harry will shout in advance. Right now Hydra in Sokovia is tearing down the country, higher priority."
Sokovia, abandoned industrial zone. Castle-style architecture, with peeling paint revealing the steel bars inside.
Lynn and Natasha cut in from the western pipes, not taking the front door. The lights inside were very dim, with glass pods on both sides of the corridor. There were people inside the pods, their skin glowing pale blue, and light seemed to be flowing in their blood.
"Assault force,"
Natasha tapped the glass with her gun barrel,
"Mass-produced type. Strucker uses the Scepter like an assembly line."
"More than that,"
Lynn looked at the end of the corridor,
"There are two more heartbeats, three times faster than these."
The Red Mist exploded right at that moment.
Without warning, it was like someone had splashed a bucket of blood-colored water into the air.
Lynn's Spider-Sense screamed like crazy, but he didn't dodge. Natasha was behind him; if he dodged, she would get hit.
The Red Mist slapped against his face, his brain was instantly torn open, and images appeared before his eyes:
Howard was standing in front of the cultivation pod, inside which were golden pupils. He turned his head to look at him and said, "You used my body".
An illusion.
Lynn bit the tip of his tongue, the serum accelerating metabolism, and the pain tore the images to pieces.
He opened his eyes and saw a red-haired girl standing at the end of the corridor, holding her hands up. Red Mist was gushing out from her fingertips, and her eyes were scarlet.
"Stay back!"
Her voice was shaking, but her energy was very steady,
"Are you guys also here to capture us for injections?"
"No,"
Lynn raised his hands, signaling he had no weapons,
"I'm here to dismantle the syringe."
"Liar!"
She screamed, and the Red Mist twisted into a strand, lashing over like a whip.
Lynn moved.
The Spider-Sense drew a prediction line across his retina. He sidestepped, the Red Mist grazing past his shoulder and smashing into the wall, shattering the cement.
He cut into the inner circle, not rushing toward the girl, but toward her rear flank.
There, a silver-haired boy was crouching on the ground, clutching a piece of metal shard, ready to stab in the moment he got entangled by the Red Mist.
Lynn clasped the boy's wrist, twisted his body, and the two of them crashed together into the adjacent experimental pod, glass shattering all over the floor.
The boy's speed was also very fast.
He twisted his body amidst the broken glass, his knees driving toward Lynn's ribs.
Lynn took it head-on, his bones making a muffled sound. The fifty-fifty serum held it off. He counter-handed and pinned the boy against the wall:
"Calm down."
The boy panted, his eyes pale blue, locking gazes with Lynn:
"You... you're not fast, but how did you know where I was?"
"Guessed,"
Lynn said,
"But I don't want to use it to beat you up."
"Pietro!"
The red-haired girl shouted.
The boy named Pietro struggled, but Lynn's strength was too great. He turned his head and shouted to the girl:
"Wanda, don't stop! Blast him!"
"Can't blast him,"
Wanda's voice suddenly deflated, and the Red Mistdispersed.
She slumped to the ground, looking at Lynn,
"Your brain is... too noisy. It's like hundreds of people are talking. I can't find your switch."
Natasha walked over from the other end of the corridor, her gun pointing at the ground, but not completely lowered:
"Where is Strucker?"
"Ran away,"
Wanda gave a wry smile,
"Half an hour ago, the alarm sounded, and he left by helicopter. He told us to cover the rear, saying we would 'die a glorious death'."
Pietro spat:
"Glorious my ass. He didn't even put his shoes on properly."
Lynn let go of Pietro and took a step back:
"Then you guys have two choices now.
One, stay here and wait for the next batch of Hydra to come and recycle you.
Two, come with me, dismantle Strucker's assembly line, and slowly settle accounts with him later."
Wanda and Pietro exchanged glances.
Pietro rubbed his wrist, his gaze fierce:
"Why should we trust you? That ball of noise in your head is weirder than Strucker."
"Because I didn't put a bullet in you when you passed out,"
Lynn said,
"And because I'm in a hurry, there's someone even weirder waiting for me at home in New York."
Wanda slowly stood up and patted the dust off her dress.
She was half a head shorter than Pietro, but her eyes were deeper, as if she had been through a lot.
"I'll go with you,"
She said.
"Wanda!"
Pietro frowned.
"Although there is noise in his head,"
Wanda looked at Lynn,
"There is no malice. I can see it. You also have speed, but he didn't deal a fatal blow just now. Strucker's men wouldn't do that."
Pietro gritted his teeth and finally glared fiercely at Lynn:
"I'm going too. But not to trust you. It's to keep an eye on you. If you dare touch my sister, I'll tear you into strips."
"Fine,"
Lynn turned and walked out,
"Line up when you tear. There are too many people who want to tear me apart."
Inside the transport plane, Wanda curled up in the corner of her seat, wrapped in the blanket Natasha gave her, very quiet.
Pietro sat next to her, glaring at Lynn every thirty seconds.
Lynn handed over a bottle of water. Wanda took it. Pietroslapped it away.
"Pietro,"
Wanda sighed.
"I'm not drinking his water,"
Pietro said,
"Who knows if there's Strucker-style serum inside."
"I wouldn't give it to you even if there were serum,"
Lynn picked up the water bottle and stuffed it back into his own pocket,
"Expensive."
Natasha let out a short, brief chuckle nearby.
Lynn leaned against the bulkhead and closed his eyes.
Wanda and Pietro. He remembered the weight of these two names on another timeline:
the bombing of Sokovia, his parents' corpses, the despair of voluntarily stepping into the laboratory, then Ultron's betrayal, and that final instant when Pietro blocked the bullets.
Those hadn't happened yet.
Strucker had just obtained the Scepter, the two kids had just had their powers artificially induced, and a greater tragedy was waiting in line in the future.
Lynn opened his eyes, looking at the two thin figures leaning against each other opposite him.
Wanda wasn't sleeping; her eyes were open, staring at the lights on the ceiling of the cabin. Pietro pretended to be fierce, but his fingers kept clutching a corner of his sister's blanket.
There was still a chance.
The assembly line was dismantled, the Scepter was in his hands, and Strucker had run away, but the base was gone.
That hellish bombing in the future might be rewritable.
"What is your name?"
Wanda suddenly asked.
"Lynn."
"Lynn,"
She repeated it, as if memorizing a difficult word to spell,
"The noise in your head... one of the voices is the same as the one I heard in my dream. Golden eyes."
Lynn's fingers tightened:
"ADAM-0?"
"Maybe,"
Wanda closed her eyes,
"He is looking for you too. Not today, but in the future. What you took away are not two burdens, but a pair of eyes. We will help you watch him."
Pietro snorted:
"I'm only watching my sister. Don't overthink it."
Lynn didn't speak.
The transport plane pierced through the clouds, and the outline of New York lit up ahead.
Chapter 68: New Residents
Pepper put two sets of clean clothes on the sofa, one dark blue and one light gray, with the tags still uncut.
"Just make do with these for now,"
she said,
"tomorrow I'll have someone take your measurements and make new ones."
Pietro stood three meters away, rubbing his fingers against the seam of his pants without touching the clothes.
Wanda, on the other hand, walked over, brushed her fingertips against the fabric, and looked up at Pepper:
"Thank you."
"You're welcome,"
Pepper smiled,
"There's food in the kitchen twenty-four hours a day. Lynnsaid whatever you want to eat, just order it, and put the bill on him."
"Put it on my bill?"
Lynn walked over from the other end of the corridor, twirling his car keys in his hand,
"When did I become a cafeteria lady?"
"From the moment you brought people back,"
Pepper snatched the keys from his hand,
"Go park the car. Don't play around in the lobby."
Lynn shrugged, tossed the keys to Happy, and turned to look at the twins:
"Your rooms are on the seventeenth floor, two rooms next to each other. Do you want to live across from each other or next door?"
"One room is fine,"
Pietro said,
"Wanda and I will stay together."
"Two rooms,"
Wanda suddenly spoke up, her voice very soft,
"Pietro, we're safe now. We can sleep in separate rooms."
Pietro opened his mouth to retort, but meeting Wanda's eyes, he swallowed his words back and muttered:
"... Then I want the one closest to the corridor. If anyone walks past, I'll be able to hear it."
"As you like,"
Lynn jerked his chin toward the elevator,
"Go up and put your things away first, and come down for dinner in twenty minutes. Tony wants to see you."
The laboratory was in the Underground Room.
Tony was wearing goggles, holding a slender probe in his hand, poking at the surface of the scepter's blue crystal.
The waveform on the screen was jumping around like an epileptic seizure, and he clicked his tongue, pulling the probe out.
"It's singing,"
he said to Lynn, who had just walked in, without raising his head,
"The frequency is lower than the human ear's reception range, but my equipment can hear it. Like... a lullaby."
"A lullaby?"
Lynn leaned against the edge of the console,
"For whom?"
"For these,"
Tony tapped the petri dish next to him, which contained tissue samples brought back from Sokovia,
"The assault force's cells accelerate division when they hear this frequency.
Strucker isn't making soldiers; he's hatching eggs."
Wanda and Pietro stood at the doorway, not coming in.
Wanda stared at the scepter, her pupils glowing slightly red before quickly fading back. Pietro grabbed her wrist:
"Don't get too close."
"It doesn't recognize me anymore,"
Wanda said,
"In the laboratory, it talked in my head every day. Now... it's quiet."
"Because I pulled its plug,"
Tony finally took off his goggles and looked at the twins,
"Welcome to my home.
There aren't many rules: don't blow up the laboratory, don't sneak onto the roof—
though you definitely won't be able to get up there anyway—and also, don't touch my coffee machine. That machine recognizes faces."
Pietro's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but he forced it into a cold snort:
"We won't touch your stuff."
"That's best,"
Tony pulled a tablet out of the drawer, swiped on it a few times, and tossed it to Lynn,
"The matter you asked me to look into, there's a lead."
Lynn caught it, glanced at it, and looked up at Wanda:
"West Sokovia, your parents' names are on the refugee camp registry. They were still collecting relief food two weeks ago."
Wanda's fingers clenched fiercely. Pietro took a step forward, his eyes wide:
"Alive?"
"Alive,"
Lynn handed the tablet over; on the screen was a blurry registration photo of a middle-aged man and woman wrapped in thick scarves,
"Happy has already driven there. The war zone is chaotic right now, so it will take time to pick them up. About three days."
Wanda didn't look at the tablet; she looked at Lynn, her eye sockets a little red, but no tears fell.
Pietro snatched the tablet over, his fingers pressing hard against the screen, his knuckles turning white.
"... Why?"
Wanda asked.
"Why what?"
"Help us find our parents,"
Wanda's voice sounded like it was being pulled back from a very distant place,
"You could have just taken the scepter and not bothered with us at all."
Lynn jumped down from the console and stood in front of her, not looking down from above, but meeting her eye-to-eye:
"Because when I brought you away, you said there was no malice in my head.
It's the same for me—when I looked at you, I didn't see enemies.
I only saw two children locked in glass chambers."
Tony coughed aside, turned around to continue poking the scepter, and pretended not to hear.
Pietro returned the tablet to Lynn, his movements much lighter. He turned his face away, staring at the floor, his voice muffled:
"... Three days. If you haven't brought them back in three days, I'll go myself."
"Two and a half days,"
Lynn said,
"Happy drives slowly, but I told him to take a shortcut."
Dinner was in the twenty-seventh-floor dining room.
At the long table, there weren't many dishes, but they were hot.
Pietro ate three servings of pasta. When the fourth serving came up, he finally slowed down, beginning to chew instead of swallowing whole.
Wanda sat beside him, sipping her soup in small mouthfuls and occasionally looking up out the window.
The lights of New York were much brighter than those of Sokovia, but not dazzling.
Gwen came up from the laboratory holding a jacket and handed it to Wanda:
"It's chilly at night, and you're wearing too little."
Wanda took it, didn't put it on immediately, and held it in her arms:
"Are you his girlfriend?"
Gwen froze for a moment, glanced at Lynn, and looked back at Wanda:
"... More like a creditor on a ledger."
"What?"
"He owes me,"
Gwen pulled out a chair, sat down, and poured herself some water,
"He owes a lot, and he has to pay it back slowly."
Wanda nodded, half-understanding, and suddenly said:
"There's your voice in his head. Very soft, but very steady. Not like noise, like... an anchor."
Gwen's hand holding the cup paused, the tips of her ears turning slightly red, but she didn't reply, just lowered her head to drink water.
Lynn was cutting steak nearby, the sound of knife and fork clinking crisp:
"Wanda, don't go around reading people casually from now on. The people here can't withstand being read; there are too many secrets."
"I didn't read,"
Wanda said,
"You guys are just too noisy, leaking it out yourselves."
Pietro laid his fork down onto the plate with a clang:
"Then don't read me either. There are no secrets in my head, only plans on how to beat you to a pulp."
"You already tried,"
Lynn said,
"In Sokovia. It didn't work."
"Next time it will work."
"Next time I'll give you one hand."
"Both hands."
"Deal."
Tony came out of the elevator holding a strange metal ring and placed it on the table:
"The scepter's suppression ring, I welded it. Put it on, Wanda, and your Red Mist won't blow up the lightbulbs."
Wanda looked at the ring without moving.
"You don't have to wear it,"
Tony said,
"but the building has already tripped its circuit breakers twice tonight. If it blows up one more time, my reactor is going to go on strike."
Wanda stretched out her hand, letting Tony fasten the ring onto her wrist.
The metal was very light and lacked temperature. She tried to urge her power, and the Red Mist coiled half a circle around her fingertips before being sucked in by the ring and disappearing.
"It's just suppression, not control,"
Tony stepped back,
"your ability is still there, just turned down in volume. Whenever you want to take it off, you can take it off anytime."
"Thank you,"
Wanda said.
Tony waved his hand and walked toward the kitchen, muttering about looking for coffee.
Pepper stopped him in the corridor and whispered something, and Tony's voice drifted back:
"... I know, two and a half days, I had Happy bring three boxes of bulletproof glass..."
Pietro watched their retreating figures and suddenly said:
"You guys... are all like this?"
"Like what?"
Lynn asked.
"Talking like family,"
Pietro frowned, as if searching for an accurate word,
"not like... like in the laboratory, where there were only commands and serial numbers."
"Because this is family,"
Wanda said softly, looking down at the suppression ring on her wrist,
"noisy, but warm."
Pietro didn't retort.
He finished the last bit of pasta, leaned against the back of the chair, and for the first time, his shoulders weren't tensed.
Chapter 69 Wanda's Light
Two days later, Happy's SUV turned into the underground garage at four in the afternoon.
The tires rolled over the speed bump with a muffled sound.
Wanda stood at the elevator entrance, her fingers twisting her cuffs, wringing the fabric into a twist.
Pietro stood beside her, his feet rooted to the ground, but his shoulders were trembling.
Every few seconds, he turned his head to glance at the driveway, then quickly turned back, pretending to look at the fire hydrant on the wall.
The car stopped.
The rear door opened, and the first to get out was a woman with graying hair, wrapped in a dark red wool scarf.
She looked up and saw Wanda, her lips trembling slightly without calling out a name, only opening her arms.
Wanda rushed over, crashing into her arms. The scarf smelled of dust and long-distance buses, but the frame was familiar, and the curve of the shoulders was familiar.
Wanda buried her face in it, not crying out loud, but her shoulders heaved violently.
Pietro didn't move.
He stared at another person in the car.
The driver's door opened, and Happy walked around, pulled open the other side's door, and helped a man down.
His left leg was in a makeshift splint, and there was a scabbed abrasion on his face, but his eyes were very bright. Leaning on a wooden stick picked up from the roadside, he inched over step by step, walking very slowly, but he didn't stop.
"Dad..."
Pietro's voice stuck in his throat like a rusted bearing.
The man looked up and smiled, missing a tooth:
"...What are you running for? Come help me."
Pietro went over.
He ran very fast, but came to an abrupt halt when he reached him, merely reaching out to support the man's arm, his movements as gentle as holding porcelain.
Lynn stood in the shadows of the fire escape, not stepping forward.
Pepper stood beside him, holding a set of keys and a document, saying in a low voice:
"The one in Long Island, two floors, the garden was repaired last year, and the heating works."
"Mhm,"
Lynn said,
"Give me the keys."
Pepper handed them over and glanced at the four people huddled together:
"Tony said, register the property under Stark Industries, and charge a symbolic one dollar in rent just to go through the motions."
"Tell him, thanks."
"Tell him yourself,"
Pepper turned and walked toward the elevator,
"He's hiding in the lab, saying he's afraid of seeing tears. Fake news, he stared at the surveillance feed for five minutes just now and spilled all his coffee."
Lynn smiled slightly and tucked the keys into his pocket.
The Villa was larger than Wanda had imagined.
It wasn't a luxury mansion, but an ordinary detached house with beige-painted outer walls and an oak tree in front of the door with its leaves just beginning to sprout.
Mother Irina stood in the living room, her fingers touching the armrest of the sofa, not daring to sit down.
Father Oleg was supported by Pietro onto a single-person sofa, his legs straight, with the splint resting on a low stool.
He looked around, his gaze finally landing on Lynn, who was standing at the doorway.
"You..."
Oleg spoke, his voice hoarse,
"Are you that Stark?"
"Leon Stark,"
Lynn walked in, placed the keys on the coffee table,
"This house is mine for you to live in. As long as you like, no time limit."
Irina raised her head, her eye sockets still red:
"We... we can't accept this."
"You can,"
Lynn said,
"Wanda and Pietro work for me, and this is employee housing. If you don't live here, they won't have the heart to work."
Pietro came out of the kitchen with a cup of water, handed it to his father, and interjected:
"We haven't agreed to work for you yet."
"You have,"
Wanda said suddenly, her voice very soft but clear,
"I agree."
Pietro glanced at her without refuting, merely muttering:
"...Then I agree too. But let's make one thing clear, no overtime."
"No overtime,"
Lynn said, "Nine-to-five, weekends off. Get used to the place first, then talk about anything else."
Oleg gripped the set of keys, the sound of metal clinking faintly.
He looked down at them for a long time, then suddenly said:
"At the border... a man with golden eyes helped us. He gave us water and pointed the way. He said, 'Go forward, someone is waiting for you'."
Lynn's fingers paused for a moment.
Wanda looked up at him, her pupils deep in the twilight light:
"Is he your man?"
"No,"
Lynn said,
"But perhaps he's my creditor. Don't think about it, just settle in first."
He turned and walked out.
Wanda followed him to the door, stepping on his shadow.
Dinner was delivered by Gwen.
A thermal container with beef stew and mashed potatoes, plus a small box of cookies.
"Pepper baked them,"
Gwen placed the items on the kitchen counter and said to Wanda,
"She was afraid you guys wouldn't have the energy to cook on the first night."
Wanda opened the lid, steam rising, and suddenly turned to look at Gwen:
"He... is he always like this?"
"Like what?"
"Arranging everything,"
Wanda said, "Like... like God."
Gwen froze for a second, then smiled—not a mock, but with a hint of helpless tenderness:
"He's not God. He's just an idiot who feels he owes the whole world and is desperate to pay it back. But you're right,"
She paused, looking at Lynn's car lights outside the living room window,
"When he opens the door, the light really does shine in."
Wanda didn't speak.
She looked down at the box of mashed potatoes, the heat making her eyes sting.
Gwen patted her shoulder and left.
At ten o'clock in the evening, Lynn's car appeared at the entrance again.
He honked the horn once without getting out of the car.
Seeing this from the second-floor window, Wanda threw on a coat and ran out. Pietro was changing the ice pack for his father in the living room; he looked up once and didn't follow.
Lynn leaned against the car door and handed her a piece of paper:
"Come to Stark Tower tomorrow at eight. This is the access card."
Wanda took it, her fingertips brushing against his, shrinking back slightly, but she didn't pull her hand away completely.
"What for?"
She asked.
"Starting with organizing laboratory data,"
Lynn said,
"Your Red Mist can interfere with electronic equipment, and conversely, it can also stabilize them. Tony needs a 'voltage stabilizer'."
"And Pietro?"
"Training room, testing speed,"
Lynn said,
"He's fast, but his path is too straight. Teach him how to turn corners without hitting walls."
Wanda looked down at the access card, printed with the Stark Industries logo. She said suddenly:
"Thank you."
"You already thanked me."
"It's different,"
Wanda raised her head, the streetlights casting bright glimmers in her eyes,
"Before, I thanked you for saving us out. Now I'm thanking you because... you gave us a door. Not the door to a laboratory, but... a door that leads outside."
Lynn looked at her without shifting his gaze.
He reached out and tucked a strand of wind-blown hair behind her ear. The movement was fast, as if casual, but his fingertips paused for a second as they brushed against her auricle.
"I am not the light,"
He said,
"I just happen to be standing at the doorway. Whether it's bright or not depends on whether you are willing to walk out yourselves."
Wanda clutched the access card tightly, the metal edge pressing into her palm.
She didn't speak, merely nodding.
Lynn pulled open the car door, got inside, and the engine started.
Wanda stood in place, watching the taillights disappear around the street corner, until Pietro's voice drifted down from the second-floor window:
"Sis, what are you standing there for?"
Wanda didn't turn back.
She touched her ear, where a trace of warmth still lingered.
"...Close the door,"
She said,
"I'm coming up right now."
Chapter 70 Skipping Work
Tony poked the probe into the scepter's base, and the waveform on the screen twitched again.
Without raising his head, he said:
"You're blocking the light standing there."
"Your light source is on the left,"
Lynn leaned against the edge of the experimental table, spinning his car keys,
"I'm blocking your shadow."
Wanda sat opposite, her hands suspended in the air, crimson mist seeping from her fingertips, wrapping around the scepter's blue crystal like thin threads.
Every time the mist fluctuated, the garbled code on the screen stabilized a fraction.
But her peripheral vision kept glancing at Lynn, and the mist drifted half an inch with it, almost wrapping around Tony's wrist.
"Hey!"
Tony pulled back his hand,
"Focus, Miss Witch. My arm isn't insured."
"Sorry,"
Wanda lowered her eyes, the tips of her ears turning red.
Lynn walked over, picked up the cup of already cold coffee from beside her, and took a sip:
"Your skills have improved. Not as bitter as yesterday."
"Pepper taught me,"
Wanda said,
"She said you aren't used to drinking sour coffee."
"I can drink anything,"
Lynn put the cup back,
"It's just that since you made it, I have to show support."
Tony rolled his eyes, tapping the probe on the table with a clatter:
"Can you two go flirt in the hallway? There's radiation here."
"There's no radiation,"
Lynn walked out,
"If there is, it's just the water in your brain."
The training room was on the fortieth floor.
Pietro was on the treadmill, the speed turned up to the maximum, leaving only a silver-gray afterimage of his entire person.
Lynn pushed the door open, leaned against the punching bag, and took out his phone to browse the news.
The afterimage stopped abruptly.
Pietro supported his knees and panted, sweat dripping from his chin to the floor:
"You're not working?"
"Working,"
Lynn swiped the screen,
"Inspecting the employees."
"Get lost."
"Fix your attitude,"
Lynn said,
"Tomorrow I'll teach you how to run with directional changes. Hit the wall again, and you'll pay your own medical bills."
Pietro tore off a towel to wipe his face, walked up to Lynn, looking down at him:
"My sister made you coffee downstairs?"
"She made it for Tony,"
Lynn said,
"I just grabbed it along the way."
"Along the way?"
Pietro sneered,
"She woke up at five in the morning to grind the beans. Back home, she wouldn't even touch a kettle."
Lynn finally raised his eyes and looked at him:
"Then you go persuade her not to make it. She listens to you."
Pietro choked.
Of course he had tried persuading her, but Wanda just smiled and said 'I've got nothing to do anyway'.
The door opened again.
Gwen walked in, holding a document, and tossed it to Lynn:
"The signature Connors wanted. Authorization for the cell staining chart."
Lynn took the pen and scribbled twice on the paper.
Gwen smoothly pressed down his upturned collar, her fingertips pausing near his Adam's apple for a second:
"Going to the bar tonight?"
"Busy,"
Lynn said.
"You're clearly just wandering around everywhere."
"Wandering around is also work."
Gwen smiled, didn't expose him, and turned to leave.
Pietro stared at her back, then stared at Lynn, his gaze like guarding against a thief.
"What are you looking at?"
Lynn asked.
"Watching when you crash and burn,"
Pietro said,
"Two women, enough to keep you busy."
"Four,"
Lynn corrected him,
"Plus your sister."
Pietro threw his towel over.
Lynn tilted his head to dodge, and the towel slapped against the wall with a muffled thud.
Natasha and Hill were sitting in the reception area on the twenty-seventh floor.
Wanda and Pietro sat opposite them, with a glass coffee table between them, on which two cups of water were placed, untouched.
Hill spoke first:
"Fury's meaning is that S.H.I.E.L.D. has official staffing, training, and protection. Your abilities require systematic guidance."
"And a pension,"
Natasha added, leaning back on the sofa with her legs crossed.
Pietro picked up the water cup, then put it down:
"Sounds better than working off the books."
"Pietro,"
Wanda frowned.
"It's true,"
Pietro said,
"What are we considered here? Interns? Lab assistants? Or his..."
"My people,"
Lynn pushed the door open, sat directly next to Hill, took the coffee from her hand and took a sip,
"Not outsourced."
Hill glared at him:
"This is official business."
"I am also official business,"
Lynn said,
"Sokovia's base was dismantled by me, the scepter was snatched by me, and the people were brought back by me. If Fury wants to incorporate them, let him come and shoulder the bill himself."
"This isn't a request,"
Hill's voice sank,
"Superpowered individuals must register. Those are the rules."
"The rules are set by me,"
Lynn put the cup back into Hill's hand,
"Here, Wanda is the voltage stabilizer, and Pietro is the accelerator. At S.H.I.E.L.D., they would just be Number Seven and Number Eight. That's a big enough difference."
Natasha shrugged:
"I bet Fury doesn't dare come shoulder the bill. Tony just rejected his expense report last month."
Hill sighed:
"You're always like this."
"Like what?"
"Pulling everything into your embrace without distinguishing between good and bad."
"I can tell the difference,"
Lynn looked at Wanda, then at Pietro,
"I can tell the difference between good and bad. S.H.I.E.L.D. treats them like guns, while I treat them like human beings. That difference is big enough."
Wanda looked at him, her eyes very bright, as if light were leaking out from within.
Pietro sat forward, blocking her line of sight:
"We can decide for ourselves. Sis, you say something."
Wanda didn't hesitate:
"I listen to Lynn."
"... You!"
Pietro stood up abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping a harsh sound across the floor,
"What kind of spell has he cast on you?"
"I haven't been cast any spell,"
Wanda's voice was very soft, but very steady,
"I've just thought it through. Following him, I can learn how to be a human being. Following S.H.I.E.L.D., I can only learn how to be a number."
Pietro opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.
He glared fiercely at Lynn, slammed the door and walked out, footsteps echoing in the corridor.
Hill rubbed her temples:
"You ticked him off."
"His fur was already standing up to begin with,"
Lynn said,
"Smooth it out slowly."
At night, on the rooftop.
The wind wasn't strong, but it was chilly.
Wanda came up with a jacket and draped it over Lynn's shoulders:
"It's cold at night."
Lynn didn't turn back:
"Thanks. But don't just listen to me in the future. You have a brain too, think for yourself."
"I've thought about it,"
Wanda stood beside him, her hands resting on the railing,
"Following you, at least I know where I am. Following S.H.I.E.L.D., I'll only know where I've been placed."
Lynn smiled and turned his head to look at her:
"Quite a sharp tongue. Did Pietro teach you that?"
"He taught me how to curse,"
Wanda said,
"He didn't teach me this."
The door to the stairwell clicked open.
Pietro stood in the shadows, holding a thermos:
"Sis, it's time to go home. Mom made soup."
"It's only eight."
"Soup has to be had while it's hot,"
Pietro walked over and pulled Wanda up, his movement not rough, but very firm.
He looked at Lynn, lifting his chin:
"Don't be late for training tomorrow."
"I'll try,"
Lynn said.
Pietro led Wanda away, and at the door he turned back to glare at him once more.
Wanda looked back at Lynn, the corners of her mouth curving slightly, before being pulled into the stairwell by Pietro.
Gwen walked out from the shadows on the other side, tossing two cans of cola, and tossed one to Lynn:
"That little wolf pup guards against you tightly."
Lynn caught it, pulled the tab, the sound of the fizz loud:
"Normal. If I had a sister like that, I'd guard against it too."
Gwen leaned against the railing, tilting her head back to take a gulp:
"So when are you going to sink your teeth in?"
"What bone?"
"Don't play dumb,"
Gwen nudged him with her elbow,
"The way Wanda looks at you, it's like she wants to swallow you alive."
Lynn took a sip of his cola, didn't speak, just looked towards the distance in the direction of Long Island, where there was a lighted Villa.
"She just learned how to be a human being,"
He said,
"Not how to be someone's mistress. What's the rush."
Gwen let out a chuckle, crushing the aluminum can flat:
"Aren't you in a rush?"
Lynn finished the rest of the cola and tossed the can into the trash can, with a clatter.
"I'm in a rush,"
He said,
"But debts have to be paid back one by one."
Chapter 71: Under the Streetlights
Lynn's car was parked downstairs from Gwen's apartment building, the engine cut off, but the car door remained unopened.
Gwen sat in the passenger seat, having not unbuckled her seatbelt, her fingers tapping on her knees.
Stockings wrapped around her legs, tightening and relaxing with her muscles, the mesh looking like a living layer in the dark.
"We've arrived,"
Lynn said.
"Mhm,"
Gwen said,
"Let's sit for another minute."
The car's air conditioning wasn't on, and the scent of leather mixed with her perfume, fermenting into a sticky temperature.
Lynn's hand slid down from the steering wheel, grasping her mid-thigh, his fingertips sinking into the texture of her stockings.
Gwen shuddered slightly, not dodging, but instead adjusting her seat back by one notch with a crisp click.
"How many glasses did you drink tonight?"
Lynn asked.
"Two glasses,"
Gwen said,
"I'm not drunk."
"Then why aren't you cold?"
Gwen turned sideways, lifting her knees and stepping on the edge of the center console, her skirt stretched tight by her thighs into a sharp arc.
The sound of metal clashing was loud in the confined space:
"Because it's hot."
Lynn pulled her over.
The space inside the car was small, and the seat leather let out a creaking groan.
Gwen straddled up, the seatbelt buckle pressing painfully against her lower back, but she ignored it.
White mist gradually covered the inside of the car windows, separating the inside and outside into two worlds. Her breath puffed against Lynn's earlobe, like a drowning person blowing bubbles beneath the water.
"...Slower..."
She grabbed his shoulders, her nails sinking in through his shirt,
"The chair... is going to break..."
"If it breaks, I'll pay for it,"
Lynn's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper.
Gwen let out a very brief laugh, then bit her lip, swallowing back the sounds that followed.
The car's suspension swayed gently, with an unstable rhythm, as if something living were breathing.
The white mist grew thicker and thicker, turning the car windows into frosted glass where only two overlapping shadows could be seen, indistinguishable from one another.
Across the street, the streetlights stretched Peter Parker's shadow long.
In his hand, he clenched Gwen's experimental notes, which she had left behind at the Osborn laboratory that afternoon.
He had originally planned to return them to her and incidentally ask about the cracking progress of the blank chains for the ADAM project. He walked downstairs to the apartment building, looked up, and saw that car.
The dark sedan, with its lights off, was parked in the shadows of the parasol trees.
Peter stood in place.
His vision was very good; even without wearing the Spider-Man mask, he could clearly see the car's suspension gently rising and falling, like breathing.
The car windows were covered in a thick layer of white mist, from which occasionally came very soft, suppressed sounds—leather rubbing, metal clashing lightly, and Gwen's voice, shattered into incoherent fragments.
He opened his mouth, but made no sound.
The Spider-Sense did not ring.
It meant there was no danger.
It just hurt, but the pain was clear, like pulling out a decayed tooth—hollow, but clean.
Peter lowered his head to look at the notebook in his hand.
The cover bore Gwen's handwriting, filled with drafts of genetic sequences.
He remembered graduation day when she said "Wherever you are, I will stand guard".
Now he understood that there were some doors he couldn't guard, because someone inside was guarding her, closer, hotter, and more real than he could ever manage.
He placed the notebook on the fire hydrant, weighting it down with a stone so it wouldn't be blown away by the wind.
Then he turned and left.
His steps were slow, but very steady, and he didn't look back.
Inside the car, Gwen slumped in her seat, her hair plastered against her cheeks, her chest rising and falling very lightly.
She turned her head to look at the white mist on the car window, reaching out to swipe a line through it, revealing the blurry street scene outside.
"Just now..."
Her voice was hoarse,
"It seemed like someone was standing there."
"Mhm,"
Lynn lay flat on his back, his arms pillowed behind his head,
"He left."
Gwen abruptly propped herself up:
"Who?"
"Peter."
Gwen froze, her fingers stopping on the car window glass, the half-drawn circle freezing right there.
She looked in the direction of the fire hydrant; that stone weighing down the notebook looked like a small gravestone under the streetlights.
"...I'll go chase after him,"
Gwen went to pull the car door.
Lynn caught her wrist:
"Don't chase him."
"He saw!"
"That's why he left,"
Lynn said,
"What would you say if you chased after him? Sorry? Or thank you? Let him digest it himself. He's tougher than you think."
Gwen's hand slowly relaxed.
She looked at that fire hydrant for a long time, and finally buried her face in the crook of Lynn's neck, her breath scorching:
"...Am I terrible?"
"You're great,"
Lynn said,
"You just chose me. Sooner or later, he has to accept it."
Gwen didn't speak, simply reaching out to adjust her seat back to its original position with a click.
She tidied her skirt, smoothed out her stockings, her fingers still trembling slightly.
"I'll have Happy deliver the notes tomorrow,"
Lynn said.
"Mhm,"
Gwen pushed open the car door, the cold wind pouring in, and she shivered,
"Then I'm heading up."
"Go on up."
Gwen stood outside the car door, bending down to look at him, wanting to say something, but ultimately just pressing her lips together:
"...Goodnight, Lynn."
"Goodnight."
The car door closed.
Lynn didn't start the engine immediately; he sat in the car, looking at the rearview mirror.
The notebook Peter placed on the fire hydrant emitted a white glow under the streetlights. He waited for three minutes, confirming that the light in Gwen's room had turned on, before driving the car away.
Passing by the fire hydrant, he reached out to retrieve the notebook and threw it into the passenger seat.
Chapter 72 Notes
9:00 AM, Stark Tower Lab.
Gwen sat in a swivel chair, twirling a pen in her hand, her gaze drifting toward the door every thirty seconds.
Dr. Connors sat in front of the microscope, muttering about the cell division cycle, but no one answered him.
The door opened.
Peter walked in, his backpack slung over one shoulder, his glasses reflecting the light.
He didn't look at Gwen, went straight to his workstation, put down his bag, and took out the black notebook.
Happy sent it back this morning
Place it on the corner of the table.
"I've finished the seventh algorithm segment,"
He said the voice was very flat, like someone reporting the weather.
"How about this Fourier transform reconstruction?"
Gwen stood up, and the pen fell onto the table, rolling twice.
" Peter …"
"Um?"
Peter took off his glasses, wiped them with the corner of his shirt, and didn't look up.
"How are you?"
Peter put his glasses back on and finally looked at her.
His eyes were calm, without resentment or feigned happiness; it was the clean look that comes after staying up all night.
"fine,"
He said,
I slept through the night last night.
Gwen gripped the edge of the notebook tightly, the corners of the paper creased in the pressure.
"I wanted to catch up with him yesterday, but…"
" Gwen,"
Peter interrupted her, not out of harshness, but because he was afraid she would feel uncomfortable if she continued talking.
"I saw that car. I didn't just happen to be passing by; I was on my way to return the notebook. But it's okay, really."
He smiled, a smile tinged with bitterness, but sincere:
"I thought a lot last night. You are not my possession, and I am not your Guardian. We just happened to be on the same road for a while. Now that we've parted ways, let's go our separate ways."
Dr. Connors looked up from the microscope:
"Parker, you're fourteen minutes late."
"I went to buy coffee on the way."
Peter took a paper cup out of his bag and placed it onGwen's table; the cup was still warm.
"Yours, double milk, no sugar. I remember."
Gwen's eyes were a little red. She took the cup, but didn't drink from it; she just held it.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome,"
Peter walked to his computer, turned it on, and the blue light from the screen reflected on his face.
"I'll handle the data processing this afternoon. You go ahead with your work and don't get distracted."
Gwen sat back down, opened her notebook, and sawPeter's handwriting crammed into the blank spaces, a little messier than usual.
She stared at him for a long time, then looked up. Peterwas already wearing headphones, his back to her, his shoulders relaxed, not tense.
In the afternoon, at a villa on Long Island.
The doorbell rang three times. Wanda opened the door, her apron covered in flour and a gray mark on the tip of her nose.
What are you doing here?
Pietro peeked out from the living room sofa, a game controller in his hand, his eyes glued to the screen.
"Check windows,"
Lynn came in and closed the door behind her.
"Someone came last night; we need to reinforce it."
Oleg sat on a single sofa, the splint on his leg removed and replaced with lightweight protective gear.
He held a cup of tea in his hand and pointed to the windowsill:
"I saw the footprints; they were very large, and the person wasn't wearing shoes. They weren't ordinary people."
"I know,"
Lynn took several metal discs out of her bag, stuck them to the window frame and door seams, and pressed them firmly with her thumb.
"The sensor will beep if there's an anomaly. Don't tear it, or I'll have to send Happy to stand guard."
Irina came out of the kitchen carrying a ceramic plate piled with several dark-colored objects:
"Stay for dinner? Wanda's bread, although..."
She paused.
"Although it's a bit burnt."
"mom!"
Wanda's ears turned red as she tried to grab the plate.
"Don't take it out if you can't eat it."
Lynn had already reached out and grabbed a piece, taking a bite.
It was indeed burnt, the outer layer as hard as a shell, but after chewing it a couple of times, he swallowed it.
"It's good. It's chewy."
Wanda looked at him, a slight smile playing on her lips, and withdrew her hand from the plate.
Pietro tossed down the handle, walked over, picked up a piece, took a bite, and immediately frowned, his voice muffled:
"Sister, this looks like charcoal. Charcoal grilling."
"Then don't eat it,"
Wanda patted him on the shoulder and pushed him aside.
"Let's go play games."
I'm hungry.
"If you're hungry, chew on your charcoal."
Oleg looked at the three children huddled in the middle of the living room and suddenly whispered to Irina:
"Like a family."
Irina was adding water to her glass when she paused, nodded, and a faint light appeared in her eyes.
At five o'clock in the evening, Lynn prepared to leave.
Wanda saw him to the door, her apron still on, her fingers fidgeting in her pocket.
"Don't tear the sensor,"
Lynn said.
"Don't tear it apart,"
Wanda shook her head.
"But I want something that can call you proactively. Not something that waits for it to ring, but something that I can call out whenever I want."
Lynn took her phone out of her pocket, dialed a number, wrote it down on a sticky note, and handed it to her:
"This line goes directly to me, 24 hours a day, no need for a transfer operator."
Wanda took it, folded it into a very small piece, stuffed it into her apron pocket, and patted it down.
" Lynn ".
"Um?"
"nothing,"
She shook her head, just looking at him, a speck of flour clinging to her eyelashes.
"Drive slowly on the road. There aren't many streetlights on Long Island."
Lynn hummed in agreement, opened the car door, and got in.
As the engine started, he saw Wanda still standing at the door, the straps of her apron fluttering in the wind. He honked the horn briefly, like a greeting.
Pietro leaned out of the second-floor window, chewing on his second piece of toast, not glaring, but simply watching the taillights disappear around the street corner.
He swallowed the bread and shouted downstairs:
"Sis, what are you doing standing there? The food's getting cold."
Wanda didn't go in immediately.
She touched the note in her apron pocket, and turned around with a smile on her lips.
That evening, at Stark Tower, Lynn returned to the lab.Gwen was still there, staring at the computer screen. Peterhad already left, and his workstation was neatly tidied.
"How about it?"
Lynn leaned against the table.
"The algorithm is correct,"
Gwen said,
"The seventh empty White chain has been filled. Peter...Peter is more mature than I thought."
"He has always been mature,"
Lynn said,
"I was just circling around you, but you didn't see me."
Gwen turned her chair around and looked up at him:
"And you? Are you mature?"
"I?"
Lynn thought about it.
"I'm not going to pay my debt. Mature people don't renege on their debts."
Gwen chuckled softly, then turned back to look at the screen.
Is Long Island...safe?
"Temporarily safe,"
Lynn said,
"ADAM-0 left a message saying to wait. Waiting means he hasn't made a move yet. If we're more impatient than him, he'll win."
"Aren't you in a hurry?"
"I'm anxious too,"
Lynn walked toward the door. "So I have to pretend I'm not in a hurry."