Chapter 21
"Not bad for a workshop," Blade said, moving slowly deeper into the garage with a predator's unhurried grace, his gaze snagging on every detail as it swept from the soldering station to the rows of chemical reagents.
"Especially for just a garage. You can tell the person working here covers a wide range of disciplines."
He poked at one of my early creations with genuine interest.
"A PVC pipe crossbow? Original."
I let the remark pass without comment.
I wasn't in the mood for nostalgia right now.
I walked over to one of the unremarkable plastic storage boxes, reached inside, and pulled a Potion of Intellect and three Muscle Stimulant injectors from my inventory.
"Here. Payment for your help."
I held them out.
"The Potion of Intellect is the most valuable thing I have right now, so I can't spare more than one for the time being."
I'm already down to four vials myself.
I'll need to find time to brew another batch.
The stuff is simply too useful to let the supply run dry.
"But if you can get your hands on a Ghost Orchid, a portion of the finished product will go toward future payment."
Blade took the vials, turned each one over, and studied it carefully.
His movements had the unhurried thoroughness of a professional assessing new field equipment.
"First I'll find out what exactly these are and how they're used. With the cleanups I have coming up, there'll be no shortage of opportunities to field-test your miracle drugs. I'll give you feedback, naturally. After that we can talk about ingredient supply."
"Good. You won't be disappointed by the results," I said, and immediately decided to press while the opportunity was there.
"By the way, would you happen to know any interesting recipes?"
The chance to legally obtain a blueprint without spending OP, which the System might otherwise value at hundreds of points, was almost too good to pass up.
Blade's brow creased slightly.
"My entire arsenal is purpose-built for one thing: killing vampires."
"I don't care!"
I leaned forward with what I recognized was almost boyish enthusiasm.
"I just want to create something new. The act of creation itself is what drives me."
Well.
The OP is also a factor.
A significant one.
He studied me for a few seconds.
Then the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.
"As it happens, there is one recipe. A combat stimulant. Devastating stuff. It elevates reaction time and sharpens battle instincts and intuition to an extreme degree. There are side effects, though: blood pressure spikes, the heart hammers like it's trying to break out, and an unprepared body can actually drop dead from it."
"That sounds like it would pair perfectly with my Muscle Stimulant!"
My eyes lit up.
"My thoughts exactly."
Blade nodded, and something calculated moved behind his eyes.
"In fact, for another injector of your stimulant, I'll generously hand over the recipe. And for one more after that, I'll throw in a full list of formulations specifically designed to kill vampires."
"Great, robbing an honest craftsman in broad daylight."
I sighed theatrically.
"And we're not even in the worst part of town."
I reached into the box anyway and handed Blade two more injectors.
Blade responded to my complaint with nothing but a short, mocking chuckle, pocketing the payment without ceremony.
"All right, listen carefully. Better yet, write it down. We'll start with the combat stimulant. The ghouls call it Beast Potion. I pulled the recipe out of them the hard way."
I grabbed a notebook from one of the other boxes, the one already covered in my early analytical notes, and opened it to a fresh page.
"Briefly, then. The base is aconite extract, specifically Wolfsbane. Rare and extremely potent. Temporarily suppresses rational thought and fear, releasing pure fighting instinct. Two milliliters per dose is enough."
"Where do I source it?"
"Mountain regions of Tibet. But don't worry, I'll pass you my supplier's number. Tell him you're from Eric. He might even give you a discount."
Blade's smirk returned.
"Or, more likely, he'll raise the price. Either way. Next ingredient: a CNS activator. Syn-epiphene... syn-epinephrine complex. The lab people can handle the synthesis; it's not a natural compound. One milliliter per dose."
"That shouldn't be a problem."
I was already mentally drafting the technical specifications for Peter.
Hopefully.
"Good. Next is purified venom from a species of fishing spider, Dolomedes tenebrosus. I breed them myself. The milking and purification process is a genuine headache. And before you ask, my colony stayed in Britain, so you'll need to figure out your own source. Half a milliliter per dose."
"I don't think that'll be a serious obstacle," I said, already running through options.
"Probably not. This is America; you can find anything if you're willing to look. As for the solvent, dimethyl sulfoxide, just make sure you get pharmaceutical-grade purity, that part matters. And the process itself: heat the aconite extract in the solvent to approximately 60 degrees Celsius. Let it cool, then add the spider venom and mix in a centrifuge at low speed. After that, introduce the CNS activator into the resulting emulsion. Keep everything at low temperature throughout to prevent decomposition. That's it. Pour it into an injector. Duration of effect is seven to ten minutes."
We spent a few more minutes clarifying details, and I committed everything to the notebook with a precision that would have impressed me two months ago.
Then we moved on to the vampire-specific formulations.
The recipes here were noticeably simpler, but no less effective for it.
The first was the UV Flash Potion, which functioned in practice as an alchemical grenade.
On impact, it produced a powerful blinding burst of concentrated ultraviolet light, burning vampire skin within a five-to-seven-meter radius and causing temporary blindness.
The formula was a relatively clean two-component design.
The outer shell was packed with magnesium powder and potassium perchlorate.
Inside sat a thin glass ampoule holding the catalyst: a mixture of strontium salt and finely dispersed Sunlight Quartz powder, another rare material available through the same supplier.
As I understood it, the strontium salt provided additional energy and heat during the reaction, acting as a detonator for the quartz and forcing it to release its stored UV radiation.
Simple, brutal, and effective.
Pure Blade.
"The second one is, roughly speaking, a Garlic Cloud," Blade continued, and a note of sadistic satisfaction crept into his voice.
"When the shell breaks, it releases a dense, corrosive aerosol cloud roughly ten meters across. The allicin concentration inside it is high enough that vampires begin suffocating and writhing as though acid has been poured directly into their lungs. It causes severe burns to the respiratory tract and mucous membranes. Particularly effective in enclosed spaces."
His grin sharpened considerably.
"Throw one of these into the ventilation system of a nightclub where a nest of bloodsuckers has taken up residence and just wait outside. Highly entertaining."
The recipe was almost insultingly simple.
Lyophilized, freeze-dried, allicin extract in powder form is blended with ordinary baking soda.
The inner ampoule contains a concentrated citric acid solution that, when broken on impact, triggers a violent reaction.
The resulting carbon dioxide then propels the garlic payload outward in all directions.
Cheap to produce and genuinely unpleasant for everyone on the receiving end.
"Third and final: Silver Potion. Unlike the previous two, this one doesn't explode. It sprays a sticky, viscous liquid carrying a suspension of silver nanoparticles. The stuff causes deep, non-healing chemical burns. The gel is difficult to wipe off, and it keeps corroding tissue for hours after initial contact."
The recipe was even simpler: an ultra-high concentration colloidal silver solution mixed into a glycerin-based polymer gel.
That was the whole thing.
"I use it as a coating for my kunai and shuriken," he added, one hand moving instinctively to the hilt of one of the throwing knives at his belt.
His weapons caught my attention.
After finishing with the last of the recipes and confirming that all the details had been properly anchored in my memory by the Master Clockmaker, I asked the question that had been sitting at the back of my mind.
"Your weapons. Why do they look so much like the arsenal of a Japanese shinobi?"
Blade looked at me.
Then a wide smile broke across his face.
"Because I am a shinobi."
"What?"
I was genuinely caught off guard.
None of my background knowledge had included this.
"Exactly what I said," he replied with a shrug.
"Long story. I wiped out the ghoul population in Japan, ran into their boss, Alexander Haskiel, the one you've already heard about today, and nearly got myself killed in the process. But, as the situation demanded, I managed to get out. Half-dead, I was found by an old master. He took me on as his student. For a couple of decades I learned to be not just a killing machine, but a shadow, a ghost of one. By the time I was finished, old Haskiel had settled down and stopped provoking me. But the other clans had spent those same decades relaxing, convinced I'd either died or gone quiet for good."
The grin that followed was the most bloodthirsty expression I'd seen from him all evening.
"They were reminded rather forcefully that I had not."
"When was this, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Oh, the wild nineties, as they used to call them back in the Soviet Union."
I ran the numbers quickly.
"So you spent a couple of decades learning ninjutsu before the nineties, had a life before that, and another twenty-five or more years have passed since then..."
"Ah, I see where you're going with that."
He let out a short laugh.
"I'm 173 years old. I'm a Dhampir. Half human, half purebred vampire. Born extremely rarely, and usually badly defective, inheriting the worst from both sides. I was one of the lucky exceptions. The strength and regeneration of a vampire, without the weaknesses."
"And your father?"
Blade's gaze went cold for a single beat.
"Irrelevant. I killed him."
He shifted tones without ceremony.
"We've been talking long enough. I have work tonight. If anything comes up, I'll be in touch."
"Right. I could use some sleep myself."
"Enjoy the workshop," he said, nodding toward the workbench.
"But don't push your luck. I've had this kind of alchemy blow up in my face more than once."
"I'll keep that in mind," I muttered.
Though privately I felt fairly confident in the precision and clarity that the Master Clockmaker had given me.
Blade left, dissolving into the night as quietly as he had arrived.
And I, despite a strong pull toward immediately trying out the new recipes, locked the garage and went inside.
The headache of the Haskiel clan was resolved.
I could breathe again.
Standing in the quiet of my own house, I realized that today had been a kind of turning point.
I hadn't just survived.
I'd fought back, secured a powerful ally, and walked away with invaluable knowledge.
The most important lesson of the day was clear: in this world, gathering mystical ingredients in exposed locations was a risk with a very finite shelf life.
Sooner or later it would draw the wrong kind of attention.
But now I was far better prepared for that attention than I had been yesterday.
A plan, resources, and an ally.
That was a different situation entirely.
And a full night ahead to sleep before the next round of a very unusual life.
I woke to sunlight coming through the blinds.
Healthy, uninterrupted sleep this time, with no trace of the paranoia that had been shadowing me.
The Haskiel threat was neutralized, and the absence of that weight felt like lifting something I hadn't fully realized I was carrying.
Saturday morning arrived with a clean charge of motivation.
I wanted to create.
And to create something serious this time, not entry-level work like the early trinkets, given that new recipes were now available.
Who was I to argue with that impulse?
Especially when it was also the most productive use of my time imaginable.
I ran a quick estimate of potential OP returns.
Beast Potion: the System should award at least 200 OP for the first batch.
Diminishing returns after that: 150, 100, 50, 40.
Five batches worked out to roughly 620 OP.
The alchemical grenades, UV Flash and Garlic Cloud, were simpler consumables.
I was projecting 100 OP for the first of each type, totaling around 240 OP for five of each.
Combined: 480 OP.
Silver Potion: elementary recipe, so even 50 OP for the first batch would be acceptable.
Approximately 150 OP for five vials.
Grand total, if I could produce everything: over 1,200 OP on my balance.
"Numbers like that are genuinely motivating," I muttered to the empty room, reaching for my phone.
Time to get started.
I dialed the number Blade had given me the night before.
"Hello. I'm from Eric," I said when someone picked up.
The conversation with the man who introduced himself as Lucas was brief and professional.
No unnecessary questions.
The rare items: 20 ml of aconite extract, ordered with a margin of safety, $4,000.
One Sunlight Quartz crystal, sufficient for dozens of grenades, $1,000.
A couple of milliliters of Dolomedes tenebrosus venom, $300.
Available for pickup after five in the evening.
Cash only.
Perfect.
Now for the rest of the ingredient list.
And there was one obvious problem that shouldn't have been a problem at all: the syn-epinephrine complex.
"Damn it."
I pressed a hand to my forehead.
"If I go back to Parker again this soon, it'll start looking suspicious."
A synthetic adrenaline analogue.
Not something you walked into a pharmacy and bought.
Ask Blade?
Out of the question.
I'd told him it wouldn't be an issue, and maintaining that image mattered.
That left Peter again.
Fine.
Here we go.
I found his number and decided to call rather than text.
Saturday, no class.
Even if he was in the lab, he was probably there for personal work, which was exactly the situation I needed.
"Hi Peter, hope I'm not interrupting?" I asked when the line connected.
"Hi, John! No, not at all! Need me to synthesize something?"
Peter's voice was off.
Too upbeat, laced with impatience and poorly hidden agitation.
He wasn't even attempting to mask it.
"Peter, is everything okay? Did something happen?"
I decided to probe gently.
"What? No, everything's fine, really!"
The forced lightness only confirmed what I was already sensing.
Something was definitely wrong.
And knowing his personality type, he would never volunteer it until it was past the point of no return.
"Fair enough. Probably just me being tired," I said, smoothly pivoting.
"Listen, can you take on another order? I need about 10 milliliters of syn-epinephrine complex synthesized. How much and how long? Private labs charge through the roof for that kind of thing."
I threw in that last part deliberately, to give him the sense that I had other options, albeit expensive ones.
"Oh, synthetic adrenaline now? Interesting..."
A shift in his voice, the flicker of scientific interest coming alive.
"Yes, I can do that. Based on your volume of reactants, probably around $100, give or take."
"I'll pay $300. For the urgency and for the brainpower involved."
"Um, yeah, sure... I'll probably head to the lab now then. It's empty on weekends. I'll start the synthesis and you can swing by in a couple of hours."
He agreed too readily.
My read on his situation was probably accurate.
And a problem that made someone agree that easily was almost certainly financial.
It would be a waste not to act on the opening.
"One more thing, Peter. A hundred milliliters of the testosterone formulation you already know. A thousand dollars."
"A thousand?!"
I could practically hear his eyes going wide and his breathing hitch.
"Y-yes, of course I can, but... John, what do you need all this for?"
There it was.
Scientific instinct and growing suspicion colliding head-on with a desperate need for money.
Time to open a card or two.
"Here's what we'll do," I said, my tone shifting to something more direct.
"When I get there, I'll explain things in person. This isn't a phone conversation. From your end: synthesis and complete silence. Agreed?"
A pause.
I could hear him breathing.
"Yes..." he said finally.
"I think that's probably for the best."
He ended the call.
So.
Today was the day I moved things to a different level with Parker.
Not just using him as a resource, but bringing him in as a real partner, one who wasn't fully informed yet, but real.
I found myself wondering whether he was already involved with Gwen Stacy in any meaningful way, or more specifically with her Spider-Woman alter ego.
That was a question for later, and it would need to be approached carefully.
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