The next few hours turned into an intense but surprisingly productive negotiation marathon. This wasn't a friendly conversation. It was a full-fledged deal between two extremely interested but mutually distrustful parties, though my distrust wasn't directed at S.H.I.E.L.D. itself, but at the moles within it.
"I'll state the main condition immediately," I began, cutting off any attempts by Fury to beat around the bush. "There will be no direct technology transfer. No blueprints, no formulas, no operational principles. You get the final product. Period. Given your leak problem, you must understand I'm not about to gift my developments to your internal enemies on day one."
Fury listened silently, his expression showing he'd expected exactly this. He nodded.
"Reasonable. Then we're talking about a supply contract. S.H.I.E.L.D. becomes your first and primary client."
"Exactly. We create a company, provisionally named 'Thompson Corp,'" I deliberately chose the most boring and trivial name I could think of. "Stark Industries screams to the whole world. 'Thompson Corp' sounds like a firm selling office staples. Perfect camouflage, and perfect for a public face, since it's tied directly to me. "And this company supplies you with necessary resources."
Next we moved to specifics. Fury dictated needs, I estimated my capabilities.
The first item was Proteus fabric. Five thousand meters.
"We need precisely the material," Fury clarified. "Our specialists will handle tailoring, to individual measurements for operatives."
I agreed. This was even advantageous: no hassles with size charts.
Next: consumables. Muscle stimulants and Apex Predator serum.
"A thousand portions of each, for starters," Fury said, looking at his tablet. "But the fatigue pills. Given their potential for all employees, not just combat groups, we need ten thousand."
I made a mental note to convert other stimulants to tablet form too. This would simplify logistics.
When talk turned to Ash and Dawn potions, the atmosphere became more serious.
"A hundred portions for starters," Fury said, and I sensed this number hadn't come easily.
He understood this was a drop in the ocean, but the price of 1 million per portion and production complexity dictated the terms. This was a trial batch. I saw in his eyes not just a desire to strengthen agents but something more: the opportunity to return "written-off assets" to service, crippled veterans withdrawn from duty whose loyalty was unquestioned. These potions weren't just medicine. This was a tool for creating the most loyal army in the world. And Fury understood this perfectly.
The last item. Compact palladium reactors. Ten units. Here I allowed myself a bit of audacity.
"Twenty-five million per unit," I said calmly. "And I'll be honest, Director, this price is a fraction of what it should be, because this technology is literally capable of changing the entire planet's energy sector. One such baby can power a dozen flying carriers, if you have any, year-round. Consider this price a gesture of my good faith, because I don't plan to transfer this technology to anyone yet. In the future, when I develop something even more impressive, their price will naturally drop."
Fury silently looked at me for several seconds, then gave an almost imperceptible nod. He didn't haggle. He wasn't buying reactors. He was buying future potential for S.H.I.E.L.D.
I committed to providing all of this within a month after receiving the science complex at my disposal. In turn, S.H.I.E.L.D. took on the whole headache: creating the corporation, resolving bureaucratic and patent issues, financing, and most importantly, access to exotic resources and their knowledge base.
"Your security and that of your key employees will also be our priority," Fury added.
At this moment I was already mentally forming the staff. Peter Parker: head of R&D. Gwen Stacy: personal assistant and field operative. Frank Castle: penciled in next to "head of security," a difficult conversation awaited with him. And somewhere on the periphery: Flint Marko. If he really has a sick daughter, I can find the right levers of pressure... or motivation. Another matter for the infinite pile.
The terms more than suited me. Especially considering my main ace, NZT pills capable of shifting the entire global power balance overnight, which I hadn't even mentioned. The rest. Yes, this was serious reinforcement for S.H.I.E.L.D. I even admitted that part of the technologies would inevitably seep to Hydra. But reverse-engineering anything more complex than Proteus or Apex Predator serum would be unlikely. This would require years of research and colossal resources. And all just to desperately try catching a train I'd already launched. And then, while deal details settled in my head, I was hit by another unpleasant realization connected to Peter. A problem I'd created myself.
Through sheer stupidity and for the sake of dubious quick results, I'd made a mistake, revealing too many cards to him. Right now this brilliant but impulsive teenager knows stimulant recipes, including NZT. He knows Proteus's formula. He knows how to brew Ash and Dawn. And the cherry on top of this powder keg: under cognitive enhancement's influence, he could theoretically recreate and stabilize Connors's serum, creating the perfect regenerative drug. He's a walking treasury of my most valuable secrets.
For now, I was safe because Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. only see "potential" in him, not knowing what his brain actually hides, and all their attention is focused on me. But as soon as Thompson Corp begins operations and Peter takes a key position in it, he'll inevitably fall under the microscope. The Parker problem was transforming from potential to priority. And I had no idea how to solve it. Strengthen him? I'd run through options dozens of times, and all hit a dead end primarily because of Peter's personality. And overall, regarding his enhancement I'd thought in terms of engineering, chemistry, and biology, but what was needed...
...Wait. I froze. Spider powers. This isn't about radiation and genetics. This is, damn it, fucking MAGIC!
Unable to restrain myself, I slowly ran my palm over my face. The gesture came out so eloquent that Fury, previously immersed in his tablet, raised his eyes to me with an unspoken question in them.
And I barely noticed him. In my head an insane mosaic was assembling. The Multiversal Web. Spider Totems. A sacred connection impossible to reproduce in a lab by simple gene copying. And all this time the answer was under my nose. Gwen: carrier of the Spider Essence. Peter: theoretically the perfect, compatible vessel. And me: the one who knows how to work with Essences, extract and transplant them. This was so insane it was genius. And most frightening, it could work. A true, so to speak classic Spider-Man could appear in this world. And that changes absolutely everything.
Okay. I'll return to this question later. First the company, lab, and straightening out Peter's brain.
"Finished with your internal crisis?" Fury inquired dryly, setting aside his tablet. His tone returned me to reality.
"Something like that," I nodded.
"Legal will prepare a preliminary contract by tomorrow morning. If everything suits you, we'll begin executing our part of the deal. This will take five to seven business days."
"Excellent," I allowed myself to exhale. The hours-long negotiation had concluded. The last day of September had been eventful.
"Then that's all for today. You're free to go. Outside you'll be met and escorted to the Base's residential complex. And yes. Kraven's body. It would be better if you transferred it to us for study."
"Mmm, no," I drawled. "First I'll study my trophy myself. I might share findings from the research."
Fury simply nodded in agreement, acknowledging my right to the spoils.
"But we're not finished," I added. Fury looked at me with interest again. "At my exploded base there's one metal box," I showed its dimensions with my hands. "It's valuable to me. Under our agreement on providing resources and mutual assistance, I'd like S.H.I.E.L.D. to find and deliver it to me."
Four hundred craft points are four hundred craft points; this box cost me dearly at the time, and the ore replenishment in two weeks shouldn't be written off either. Fury nodded again. He'd clearly already given a mental order to his "eggheads" to study this box inside and out before transferring it to me. Well, let them have fun; they won't find anything interesting there.
"And now the second request," I continued, adopting a more serious tone. "It also concerns access to your resources. And information. I need all available information you have on Vibranium processing."
Fury, who was just taking a sip of water from a glass on the table, froze, then choked. Not theatrically but genuinely, in a stifled way. For several seconds he just looked at me, and in his eyes I saw not just surprise but complete reassessment of the situation.
"Strange request," he finally said, regaining composure. His voice was perfectly even. "Anyone who knew about something like that would have demanded the metal itself." I just spread my hands with a slight half-smile, which immediately faded after his next words. "Vibranium itself is far less valuable than the technology for processing it. And S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have such information."
"What?" I didn't hide my skepticism. "What about Captain America's shield? Howard Stark created it."
"Wakandan technologies are a black box. Impenetrable. And what Stark did." Fury tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if telling this story for the hundredth time. "That's not technology. It's a scientific miracle mixed with luck and negligence."
"How exactly can you 'luckily' process a metal that absorbs any energy?"
"Heating, stabilizing field, hydraulic presses with controlled vibration. The process was complex," Fury explained. "And Stark's genius complicated it even more by adding an experimental iron sample to the alloy, hoping it would help stabilization. He repeated the experiment dozens of times, and during one such attempt one of his engineers, Myron MacLain, simply dozed off on duty. He slept through the critical moment. And the alloy solidified. Permanently. Transforming into something unique and, as it turned out, absolutely indestructible. And Stark had no more Vibranium. And, anticipating your question, we don't have it either."
"I see. A scientific fluke," I nodded. "But if they could affect it in the forties, even accidentally, then modern technology will give a more predictable result. I need all records on this project. Everything you have. And also, all information on Adamantium ore processing."
This time, Fury was less surprised.
"That won't be a problem. Information will be transferred today," he nodded. "Is that everything?"
The Stark Expo map and City of Tomorrow blueprints momentarily surfaced in my head, the key to creating a new, clean element. But I bit my tongue in time. No. This is already too much. Knowing about classified past projects is one thing. But future technologies that existed only in Howard Stark's head? That kind of knowledge couldn't be explained away as either genius or espionage. This is a direct ticket to a padded cell.
"Yes," I rose from my chair. "Thank you."
I headed for the exit but froze momentarily at the threshold. A second's concentration, an almost imperceptible effort of will, and a tiny fragment of my spiritual energy separated, forming into a translucent dragonfly invisible to the ordinary eye. I left it in the office with a single directive: remain here, record everything, and after transmitting information to me in two hours, self-destruct. With that done, I finally left Fury's office.
There really was someone waiting for me at the office exit. More precisely, she was. Natasha Romanoff, leaning against the wall in a relaxed pose that nevertheless allowed her to react to any threat.
She silently nodded and walked forward down the corridor, making it clear I should follow. Each time we turned into a new corridor, I separated another particle of my energy. Another invisible dragonfly took off and flew to explore another base section, remaining near any discovered source of spiritual power. My Reiryoku reserve should be enough for about fourteen such spies. In a couple hours I'd have an approximate base map, personnel count, and, if lucky, marks on a couple of "Hydra scum."
We walked in tense silence for the first few hundred meters.
"Decided to moonlight as a guide?" I tossed out casually to defuse the situation. "Or afraid I'll get lost and accidentally find your cursed artifact warehouse?"
"Just following the Director's order," her voice was even, but I caught notes of tension in it.
"Shame. And I was just hoping for a fascinating tour with an overview of local attractions. And anyway, stop being so tense," I said calmly, breaking the silence that was becoming increasingly oppressive. "You'll get your medicine soon. Fury ordered a hundred portions, and I'm sure one has your name on it."
I immediately wondered: what would the effect of the Ash and Dawn potion be on super-soldier serum? Most likely purely positive. The formula seeks defects and deviations from the carrier's "ideal" genetic marker. And the ideal marker for Romanoff is her own enhanced body. Worst case, nothing will happen. Best case, the potion will optimize her system and make her even stronger.
She stopped. Not sharply, but enough that I almost ran into her. Turned around. The tension in her shoulders hadn't gone anywhere, but in her green eyes professional coldness changed to burning, personal curiosity.
"How do you know about... the 'Graduates' problem? How do you even know about the Red Room?"
Her question sounded almost unprofessional. Apparently, curiosity and shock at my awareness outweighed spy composure. Masks were off now. What was the point?
"What two know, the pig knows too," I deflected with an old Russian saying. "Besides, you worked too crudely. No offense, but your sister ruined your whole operation with her straightforwardness."
"Fury's too taken with you," she said through clenched teeth.
"He just has a keen eye," I smirked. "And unlike some, I haven't been caught switching sides yet."
This was a barb in her direction, and she felt it.
"Another Russian phrase." she muttered almost without accent, involuntarily switching to her native language.
I pretended not to understand and prudently changed the subject.
"Speaking of little sister. Why does she work for the CIA? An agency, frankly speaking, of dubious quality. S.H.I.E.L.D. looks more attractive on all fronts. Nicer people, more competent leadership."
"Don't stick your nose in our business," she cut off. "This doesn't concern you."
"Strange to hear from someone who a couple days ago was probably in my house uninvited, planting hundreds of bugs. Why are my affairs yours, but yours not mine?"
"Are you serious right now?" Natasha stopped again and gave me a studying look from head to toe. "Okay, I see you're not serious. A loner who puts himself on the same level as a state power structure." she again muttered something under her breath.
"And I thought you guarded all humanity," I chuckled, continuing to follow her.
We continued on. Corridors here became wider, metal walls replaced by more pleasant finishes. People in civilian clothes passed us, though they still moved with the bearing of operatives. We were clearly in the residential complex. Natasha, confirming my thoughts, stopped at another nondescript door.
"The USA is more concerned than others about humanity's future. We've arrived."
"Of course. To promote capitalism to the masses, you need to preserve those same masses," I couldn't resist a caustic comment.
"Something like that. I'm leaving. There's an internal phone in the room if you need me."
"So now you're at my complete disposal?" I allowed myself a smirk. "Personal handler, bodyguard... maid? A superspy in an apron sounds like a pubescent teenager's dream."
She stepped close to me. The air between us seemed to spark. Her voice dropped to a low, enveloping purr.
"For you, handsome, I can be anything," her cool fingers lightly traced along my jawline, sending a current through my entire body.
Before my stunned brain could formulate a response, she pulled back, and a triumphant smirk played on her lips.
"But only after you prove you're really worth the effort."
She turned and walked away, swaying her hips in a way that should be banned by the Geneva Convention. I remained standing in the middle of the corridor, following her with my gaze, with a sudden erection and raging inner demons demanding I catch up with her and immediately hand over that potion ahead of schedule.
Barely suppressing this impulse, I entered my assigned room. Perhaps I should meditate. Restore my Reiryoku reserve, calm down, and wait for reports from my dragonfly spies.
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