"The riots have been going on for a week now," the news anchor declared from the screen embedded in the back of the seat. In the background, nighttime footage flashed: a burning armored truck, police in tactical gear behind an improvised barricade of patrol cars, their faces tense in the flashing lights. "Police Commissioner John Harvey states that the NYPD is doing everything possible to end the gang war and minimize civilian casualties."
The commissioner's last name caught my attention, but after a moment of thought, I dismissed it. If his name had been Hardy, I would have been digging through global networks to trace his entire lineage. But this was just a similar name to that of an attractive girl from a wealthy family with a penchant for theft...
Two weeks had passed since the incident. In that time, the Hammer mansion had transformed into a full-fledged military facility. Security had been increased so much that the entire neighborhood was now filled with my father's men in strict suits and inconspicuous cars parked on every corner. As for me... After the last school bell, I submitted my documents to the very high school where Peter Parker was supposed to study.
Unfortunately, I couldn't confirm his identity. I spent an entire night at the holographic terminal in my room, using the computational power of "Hammer Industries" servers. I ran complex search algorithms, hacked into city and school databases, sifted through gigabytes of information, but the result was zero. Social media in this world was still underdeveloped, and no public accounts or news were found. The Parker family was recorded as a long-deceased family of brilliant scientists who perished in a plane crash. All I could find about their child was that they existed. No name, no gender, no place of residence. Nothing. As if someone had professionally erased all traces, leaving only an empty informational shell. And that was unsettling.
After finishing school, I got rid of the pointless waste of time that was attending school and managed to rest for a couple of days before starting my scientific research. The first thing I did was read various scientific articles on completely different topics. I wasn't interested in anything specific; I just wanted to check if my understanding of all this complex stuff remained. I confirmed this in just a couple of hours of study. Yes, I literally understood the text on an instinctive level, and memories of biochemistry and related sciences immediately surfaced in my mind.
Damn, it feels like cheating to have such a brain... And it's quite sad to realize that in other sciences, I'm at the level of an enthusiastic amateur. I spoke with a student who once worked as a tutor in computer mechanics for Zik. That was about three years ago when the kid needed a deeper understanding of the processes inside various devices, and a month of intensive training was enough for him. It turns out that by the standards of my world, Zik was a genius in all sciences, but here, such things are called "talent," not "genius." In my world, scientists didn't even come close to what the science slaves of this universe could achieve, and among local geniuses, Zik stood out only in biology and related sciences, which made me wonder why things were this way. I found no answers, no matter how hard I tried. I didn't detect any special features like mutations, even though I used the most modern and advanced tools provided by my father. No, I don't know exactly what to look for, but my body didn't differ from ordinary people.
Speaking of my father, after that day, Justin disappeared for a while, and then the riots, now called the "gang war" in the news, began. It seems my father seriously took on the bastard who attempted to assassinate me. I hope this won't cause any problems for the Hammers. My father is quite calm, and deep in his eyes, I see only the satisfaction of a predator who has tricked its prey and cornered it. I hope this isn't an act and that the prey isn't actually preparing for a counterattack...
In general, communicating with my father has become a rare pleasure for me, but the trust from his side was evident. Literally everything I asked for, I received. No "you're too young to have your own lab for questionable experiments with the human genome" was heard. Apparently, Justin really saw something in me that made him trust a teenager, even if a genius.
Not being an idiot, I didn't do anything dangerous and didn't even think about experimenting on myself. I have enough memories of other scientists, each of whom decided to conduct illegal and extremely dangerous experiments on themselves, and then we saw what happened to such "experimenters": Green Goblin, Scorpion, Lizard, and there were dozens of them! Dozens of brilliant scientists just injected themselves with some unknown crap of their own making and turned into brain-damaged monsters! I don't need such joy, so I'm not even thinking about taking any vaccine before testing it on someone else.
Now I was on my way to meet Kurt Connors, who in the future should become the Lizard. In different versions, the story varies, but it's quite possible that he will become a ruthless killer-terrorist or literally devour his wife and three-year-old son. This damn multiverse of madness is too vast for me to assert anything, but the outcome is one—total chaos. And all this is only because a "brilliant scientist" decided to test on himself... Zik's knowledge said that this wasn't just stupidity, but some kind of clouding of judgment. Literally ALL scientific literature repeats that such things should not be done, but it seems that local people don't care about basic safety techniques...
"Are you alright, sir?" one of the guards asked me.
At the moment, I was riding in an experimental version of a car that had no glass at all. Instead of a windshield, there was a huge screen displaying the image from an external camera. There were a lot of other features, but this was enough for me to understand how seriously my father was concerned about my safety. In addition, there were two more cars in front and behind, packed with operatives from the "Hammer Industries" security service.
"I'm fine, just lost in thought," I reassured the man, diving back into my musings.
As far as I understood, only the most trusted people got into the security service. Remembering the moment when I was on the brink of life and death for the first time, replaying those moments when the bodyguards literally did everything to protect me, I felt sincere respect for them and for my father. For the guys—for their loyalty, and for my father—for his foresight and insight. The logo of "Hammer Advanced Weapons System" (that's the official name of our company) looks like a curved triangle with six pillars on the sides, referring to my father's first military development—the H-1 fighter-bomber, thanks to which the Hammers began their rise to the top of America's food chain. But everyone who wears the hammer emblem (Security Service) is actually ready to give their life for the Hammers, and that's truly impressive.
"We have arrived," the driver announced, although I could see for myself that we had arrived at ESU (Empire State University), where Kurt Connors taught—a biologist specializing in herpetology and genetics. "Ready."
For the next minute, I waited while the security personnel from the other cars checked the perimeter so that I could safely exit the vehicle. The presence of a sniper in the bastard who attacked me was obvious, so a lot of time was spent on this, considering the help of the latest technologies analyzing the surrounding space.
"Clear. Please proceed," confirmed the man sitting with me, who had received a report from the guys outside, then exited the car and opened the door for me.
I calmly stepped out, adjusting my tie. It wasn't necessary to dress as if for an interview, but I was a Hammer, and that meant I had to look presentable. First, and second, Connors was a world-renowned genius scientist, so showing even the slightest disrespect would be very impolite on my part.
"Good luck, we'll be waiting nearby," the man who had been sitting with me in the car briefly bowed. Actually, as far as I understood, he was something like the commander of all my security. I should at least find out his name, otherwise it's impolite...
"Thank you," I nodded and, under dozens of surprised student gazes, climbed the steps into the university.
Well, you can understand the guys and girls. An unknown schoolboy (and I looked like the most ordinary teenager) in an insanely tricked-out car with an escort in full gear arrives at their university and goes somewhere. I was sure that rumors were already circulating through the classrooms, since the windows of many offices overlooked the main entrance where we had arrived.
The university greeted me with an atmosphere of old but well-maintained academicism. The facade of gray stone, darkened by time, was adorned with stucco and massive columns in the neoclassical style. Between the old buildings were paths of red brick, framed by trimmed lawns on which, despite the coolness, groups of students with books and laptops had settled. The air was filled with the hum of hundreds of voices, the rustle of pages, and distant sounds of some rock music coming from a slightly open dormitory window.
My appearance had the effect of an exploding bomb in a quiet pond. Conversations died down. Students, dressed in a motley mix of jeans, university sweatshirts, and fashionable jackets, turned their heads toward me as if on command. I felt their gazes—a mix of curiosity, envy, and slight contempt. To them, I was just another rich kid, the son of wealthy parents, flaunting his wealth. They didn't see the armored panels of the car or the tactical gear of the guards. They only saw luxury and power, inaccessible to them.
I walked through this wall of gazes with a light, detached smile on my face. Let them look, let them whisper behind my back. Their opinion concerned me the least. My world and their world were two parallel universes that had accidentally intersected at one point today. I was here on business. Business that was more important than all their exams and parties combined. I moved forward, ignoring them, completely focused on my goal.
I already knew exactly where I needed to go. Sometimes, recordings of Connors' lectures appeared on the internet—I don't know if it was legal. Such moments didn't bother me, but they allowed me to get a crumb of truly exclusive information firsthand. The university wasn't new, but there had been recent renovations, and everything here looked quite presentable. It's just that the main direction wasn't strongly related to genetics. Connors was a geneticist and biologist, specializing in genetics, reptile biology, and regenerative medicine. That was very strong, but apart from him, there were no other truly famous scientists here, so after finishing school, I definitely didn't plan to enroll here. Why would I go to a university with only one suitable scientist-teacher when I could get lessons from him anyway? Not the most logical move, right?
"Good afternoon, Dr. Connors," I entered the empty classroom and nodded to the athletic man with a rather kind look and a sincere smile. He had light hair and dark green eyes. Kurt (that was his real name) was dressed in a strict suit: brown pants, a yellow shirt, a black tie, and a white lab coat. Connors made a very positive impression—a kind and strong man, and smart too, but everything was spoiled by the absence of his right hand. As far as I knew, he lost it in the war, where he served as a medic, and after its end and receiving a disability, he began to study science in depth, and in just a decade became a world-renowned leading scientist in many fields.
"Good afternoon, you must be Ezekiel, right?" Connors gathered some papers into a folder and came toward me with it in hand.
"Yes, you can just call me 'Zik'," I said, catching up with him, and Connors pointed to the exit, so I just went out, and the scientist followed me.
"Alright, Zik, could you close the classroom for me? You understand, it's not very convenient to do such things when you have one hand..." he awkwardly smiled, jokingly pointing to his stump.
Yes, it seemed that the man had already accepted his new state, since he could even joke about it, but I knew that in reality, he was desperately eager to regain his hand... Hmm, that sounded like a good option for getting Connors... Hmm, I got lost in thought for a second.
"Of course," I approached and took the key that Kurt was holding between his fingers and inserted it into the keyhole.
"To the right," the scientist prompted and, waiting for two turns with characteristic clicks, pointed to his lab coat pocket. "Thank you, Zik. Your father said that you are very smart for your age, but before reading anything to you, I would like to understand your current level. Do you mind a small test?"
"No, I'd be happy to help," we moved through the corridors again and finally arrived at the laboratory wing.
"Alright, I'll prepare everything, and you solve this," entering the open office (which surprised me), Kurt placed the folder on the table, and after rummaging through some papers, took one out and handed it to me. "If you have any questions, ask," after that, the scientist went a little deeper into the lab, and I looked around.
A fairly small room compared to the underground lab under the mansion, but quite spacious by the standards of "ordinary people." Gray walls, white floor, and many lamps because there should always be a lot of light in the lab. At the entrance, there was a table with a couple of chairs and a bunch of papers on it, next to it was a cabinet with many folders with inscriptions and numbers, a little further various equipment was visible, which even looked damn expensive. And there was a lot of it, and among the various "things of unclear purpose," both quite familiar microscope and centrifuge and more exotic ones that Zik knew about—cell culture incubator, electrophoresis apparatus, and spectrophotometer. It was even hard to pronounce all these names, even in my mind...
"You can look for a pen on the table," Connors' voice came from around the corner. "And don't worry, this is just to understand your level, no one will grade you for this," he chuckled at the end. Well, you can understand him, I'm still a child, and many not-so-smart parents boast about the "genius" of their offspring, I've met a couple of those.
"Thank you," I replied to the scientist and indeed found a pen on the table. So, what do we have here?
At first, the test was ridiculously simple: "Who is Mendel and his laws," the so-called basics, and the complexity was that there were no answer options, and everything had to be written out. Then there were questions like: "What is DNA, RNA, proteins," "Replication, transcription, translation," "Dominance and recessiveness of traits." Essentially, the basics of genetics and a bit of biology, nothing difficult for Zik was here, and I solved the questions in a couple of minutes, spending most of the time transferring the answer to paper. Then there were equally simple questions on biology, chemistry, and it ended with practical questions about behavior in the lab. Honestly, I expected something different, but it looked like completely normal questions even for my world. No mutants, gamma radiation, or other nonsense like the X-gene. Although it was understandable, this was just a regular test for ordinary students, so the questions should be appropriate. In general, I needed to rein in my imagination and not make things up.
"I'm done," I informed the professor, who had been busy with something unclear in the far part of the lab all this time.
"Done?" a surprised Kurt appeared, chewing a sandwich with sausage... "I need to prepare everything," right? "Oh, come here." He disappeared again for a second, then came out from behind the corner without the sandwich and took the test sheet from the table. "Did you answer everything?" The questions were on both sides, so Connors even flipped through the paper before starting to read. The man's face showed surprise, and he looked quite thoughtful.
Waiting silently for the scientist to check my answers (what was there to check? He could have given me first-grade math examples) was quite boring, but lately, dozens, even hundreds of different thoughts had been literally swirling in my head. I wasn't sure what to call it, but you could safely call me hyperactive because I had a lot of ideas, and I wanted to implement all of them. Albert even jokingly called me an electric whisk, but I didn't take offense.
"Everything is correct..." Now I was being looked at with suspicion. "Did you use your phone?"
"No, why would I?"
"Well then, let's start with an introduction..."
POV Dr. Curtis "Kurt" Connors
After seeing off Justin's son, I still couldn't calm down. Kurt and I have known each other for a very long time, since our university days, but we only renewed our communication after I... became disabled... Justin helped me a lot, gathered our classmates, helped with money, even offered to personally develop a prosthesis, but I refused: not only did I have nothing to repay him with, but even then, my mind was already on how to regain my arm.
When my friend called and said that his son wanted to learn from me "whatever you deem necessary," I just sighed. I was ready to teach students, they at least had a base, but to teach a child? A schoolboy who had just barely finished middle school? In recent years, all I've done is tinker in the lab. I felt that I was close to finally healing myself, but something was missing, and it drove me crazy, making me work even harder! Only Martha, my dear wife, and my three-year-old son brought me back to reality. If it were up to me, I would have stopped teaching and delved into studying the cellular structure of lizards and trying to transfer their regeneration factor to humans. I didn't even give lectures or teach outsiders, only students and sometimes groups wanting to enroll, but I made an exception for the son of my good friend.
At first glance, Ezekiel seemed to me an ordinary, quite kind child. It was clear that the boy wasn't spoiled by a wealthy life and permissiveness, although, knowing Justin, I wasn't surprised at all. He was a serious man and should raise his heir with all diligence. After lectures, I usually ate, so I decided to distract Zik with a test for admission to ESU in the direction of "Genetics and Molecular Biology." The test wasn't difficult, but without preparation, it was hard to score 100 out of 100. Nevertheless, it was quite competently composed, because I compiled it, and it was divided into several sections. This allowed me to easily understand what the applicant student was good at and what they needed more time to study. But what was my surprise when a 14-year-old boy solved it in 10 minutes! It usually took at least half an hour! And that was for adult, prepared students!
When the initial surprise passed, the thought came to mind that the boy simply soberly assessed his skills and answered only the questions he knew, which was why it took him so little time, but no, the sheet was filled with small handwriting on both sides, and after reading the answer to the first question that caught my eye, I couldn't hide my surprise. Before me was a child, a very young guy, but judging only by what I saw, the test was taken by an adult scientist whom I wouldn't be ashamed to take as a lab assistant! Well, what can I say, even students are suitable as lab assistants, of course, if they are diligent and smart, and such a person can be safely admitted to the staff!
For the next hour, I checked the boy's knowledge myself, simply unable to believe that Justin's son was SO genius. I had heard about this from my friend, but... No, I just couldn't believe it! Zik really understood the subject, and in some sections even more than me! This was just... Abnormal! After the interview and confirming the genius of one young man, for about another hour I described my project, telling and showing the equipment. After that, the meeting time was up, and we agreed to meet again in a week...
I need to call Justin... At least listen to his satisfied chuckles, maybe I'll calm down...