Chapter 57 Reunion
On the thirty-second floor of Stark Tower, at the breakfast table.
Banner sat in the middle of the long table, wearing a gray hoodie given by Tony, the cuffs covering half of his fingers.
He was poking at the scrambled eggs in his plate with a fork, his movements resembling adjusting a microscope in the lab.
Pepper sat opposite Tony, having just handed Banner a glass of milk.
Betty sat next to Banner, holding a data report in her hand, but her gaze occasionally drifted toward Lynn at the other end of the long table.
Gwen pulled out a chair and sat down next to Peter.
A laptop was spread out in front of Peter, displaying a half-finished experimental report on the screen, and he was biting the cap of a pen in his mouth, his brows furrowed into a knot.
"Your cell staining chart hasn't been revised yet,"
Gwen glanced at the screen,
"Dr. Connors asked me for it yesterday."
"I know,"
Peter spat out the pen cap, his voice muffled,
"But I went out last night… and didn't have time."
"Out swinging?"
Gwen lowered her voice.
Peter's ears turned red as he pushed up his glasses:
"It's… it's patrol. Counting pigeons along the way."
Harry walked out of the elevator with a very light step, holding a glass of orange juice.
He sat down opposite Gwen. His fingers trembled slightly when he pulled out the chair, but his complexion was much more normal than the previous few days.
"Harry,"
Gwen looked up at him,
"Is the back of your hand still hurting?"
"It doesn't hurt anymore,"
Harry put down the orange juice, revealing a shallow scar on the back of his left hand,
"The green guy is very quiet now. Like… like he's been muted."
Peter closed his notebook and seriously looked at Harry:
"Seriously, Harry, can you hear him now? I mean… that voice you mentioned before?"
"Yes,"
Harry nodded,
"But he doesn't roar anymore. He just mutters occasionally, like a roommate playing games next door."
"What kind of game?"
Peter asked.
"Violent ones,"
Harry twitched the corner of his mouth,
"But I'm wearing headphones, so I can't hear it."
Banner chuckled softly from the other end of the table:
"That's a good metaphor. I should buy a pair of headphones too."
Betty turned her head and looked at Harry seriously for the first time:
"The serum in your body and Dr. Banner's gamma mutation share certain commonalities. If you're willing, I can do a comparative scan for you this afternoon."
"Sure,"
Harry said,
"But I have to ask the Queen Bee first."
"Queen Bee?"
Betty froze.
"He means me,"
Lynn was drinking coffee without even lifting his eyelids,
"Harry, do it if you want to. You don't need to ask permission for everything."
"I'm used to it,"
Harry lowered his head to drink orange juice,
"You can keep me under control, so you call the shots."
Peter looked at this scene with a somewhat complicated look in his eyes.
He turned his head and whispered to Gwen:
"Harry calls Lynn Queen Bee now? Then what are we? Worker bees?"
"You're the pigeon counter,"
Gwen said, the corners of her mouth curving up.
"I'm not a pigeon,"
Peter muttered,
"I'm… an intern. Not officially hired yet."
Ivy carried a plate of toast out of the kitchen, placed it in the center of the table, and casually patted Peter on the head:
"Kid, getting a full-time position requires performance. Where's your performance?"
"I stopped three robberies, two rear-end collisions, and once…"
Peter counted on his fingers and suddenly paused,
"Forget it, those can't be put on a resume."
Natasha leaned against the window, twirling her red teacup, and looked at Peter:
"You can write it into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s temporary worker file. The treatment is good, with medical insurance."
"Really?"
Peter's eyes lit up.
"Fake,"
Hill cut her bacon without even lifting her head, "You're under eighteen and don't even have a driver's license."
"I have a bicycle license,"
Peter argued unconvincedly.
"That doesn't count,"
Tony finally spoke. He put down his coffee cup and looked at Harry:
"All right, Mr. Green Roommate, what did you sense this morning? Your complexion wasn't very good when you came downstairs."
Harry put down his cup and twitched the tip of his nose:
"There's movement in New York. Brooklyn, on the east side. Gamma fluctuations, but not Dr. Banner's kind."
Banner's fork stopped:
"Bronski?"
"I don't know the name,"
Harry frowned,
"It smells terrible. Like gutter oil mixed with battery acid. He's changing, very slowly, very painfully, and he's very hungry."
Betty's expression changed, and her fingers clenched tightly around the report:
"Did the Military really give him the serum?"
"Not only did they give it,"
Ivy turned the tablet toward everyone. On the screen was an energy curve,
"They added other ingredients too. The contact residue from Brazil, Lynn's gene fragments, were collected in some way. They made a replica."
The dining table fell silent for a beat.
Peter stood up abruptly:
"What are we waiting for then? We have to go stop him!"
"We?"
Gwen grabbed his wrist,
"Peter, sit down."
"Gwen, he's right in Brooklyn! I can…"
"What can you do?"
Gwen looked at him, her voice not harsh, but very steady,
"Go get yourself killed wearing that suit? Bronski is a Military test subject now. If you rush over there, do you want to make tomorrow's news headlines?"
Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Harry said softly from across the table:
"Peter, that thing… doesn't look like it was transformed from a human. He has no Hive, no connection, only hunger.
Hungry enough to tear apart anything that moves. If you go, he'll bite you first because you're the loudest."
"I'm not loud,"
Peter sat down, his voice dropping,
"I just… wanted to help."
"Your way of helping,"
Lynn finished his coffee and set the cup down on the table,
"is to finish revising Dr. Connors's cell staining chart with Gwen today.
Harry, you lead the way, Natasha comes with me. Hillstays behind to watch Banner and Betty. Ivy, find out who stole my cells."
"What about me?"
Betty asked.
"You'll scan Harry this afternoon,"
Lynn said, "After twelve o'clock, I'm sleeping in."
"Deal."
Peter looked up at Lynn:
"Then I… can really only revise the report?"
"You can do more than this,"
Lynn looked at him, tone plain,
"Gwen needs you to help her check the data. She'd have to work on those charts alone until night. You're her partner, aren't you?"
Peter was stunned for a moment and turned to look at Gwen.
Gwen didn't speak, just pushed her laptop toward Peter.
"...Fine,"
Peter reopened his computer,
"I'll revise it. But if there's an emergency, you have to call me."
"If a pigeon suddenly gets lost, I'll call you,"
Natasha chuckled and finished her black tea.
Harry stood up, floated three centimeters off the ground, and dropped back down.
He looked at Peter and Gwen and suddenly said:
"See you at school next Monday?"
"You're planning to go back to school?"
Gwen was surprised.
"I missed the midterm exams,"
Harry scratched his head, "My mom will kill me.
And… I want to try to sit back in a classroom like a normal person."
"You can sit next to me,"
Peter said,
"I'll lend you my notes."
"Your notes aren't complete,"
Gwen said,
"Borrow mine."
"Then I'll sit between the two of you,"
Harry said, the corners of his mouth revealing a long-lost college student's smile,
"An honor student on the left, Spider-Man on the right, copying from either is a win."
"I'm not called Spider-Man,"
Peter lowered his voice,
"That name hasn't been decided yet."
"Then what is it?"
Harry asked.
"...Friendly Neighbor?"
"Too tacky,"
Harry shook his head.
Lynn had already walked to the elevator entrance. Hearing this, he turned back to glance at them:
"Call it whatever you want, finish the report first."
The elevator doors closed.
Gwen looked down at the computer, and Peter leaned in, their shoulders brushing against each other.
Harry sat back down and slowly drank his glass of orange juice.
Banner looked at the three young people and said softly to Betty:
"Don't they look like us back then? In the lab, feeling the world was very simple."
Betty didn't answer, just looked in the direction where Lynnhad disappeared, her fingers gently tapping on the edge of the report.
Chapter 58: Natasha Before Departure
Natasha fastened the last buckle of her belt in front of the full-length mirror.
A neatly tailored black tight-fitting uniform closely hugged her figure, with straight shoulder lines outlining the tall and slender silhouette of a mature woman,
the skirt's length was just right. A pair of slender and straight long legs were wrapped in translucent light-black silk stockings, the gauze-like fabric veiling her glowing white skin. As the light swept across, a delicate and soft matte sheen bloomed over her legs, her ankles drawn slender by the stockings, steadily propped up on extremely high heels.
Lynn leaned against the doorframe, his gaze traveling all the way up from her ankles and stopping at her waist:
"Warm up the car first?"
"As for the car,"
Natasha turned around, picked up the car keys from the bedside table, and spun them between her fingers,
"You only know how it handles once you drive it. Appearance is important, but how well it drives is even more important."
The hotel room's main lights were not turned on.
A gap was left in the curtains, letting the city lights leak in and cutting a silver line across the floor.
Lynn's palm landed on her waistline, and through the uniform fabric, he could feel her warmth.
Without needing too many instructions,
a gentle turn of the steering wheel could cut into the smoothest curve, the suspension system retracting and releasing freely, emitting a low and restrained muffled sound on the bumpy road.
There was no need to pity the odometer.
The engine roared,
the tachometer needle climbed all the way up, and the car body shook violently,
Natasha's nails sank into his back,
and after the final high-rev scream,
the car slowly and steadily came to a stop, residual warmth still lingering under the hood.
Natasha lay prone on his chest, her breathing gradually calming down, her strands of hair brushing against his chin:
"... With this driving skill of yours, have you ever taken a test for a license?"
"Self-taught."
"That's a violation."
"Then deduct points."
Natasha let out a laugh, propped herself up, picked up the uniform jacket from the floor, shook it out, and draped it over herself again:
"Let's go. To test drive in Brooklyn."
Brooklyn, underground boxing ring.
The door was pushed open, and a wave of rust and sour sweat surged out.
In the center of the ring, a figure had his back to them, shoulders so broad they almost burst the military undershirt, skin a sickly grayish-green, knuckles bulging out from the backs of his hands like tree roots.
Bronski.
He was currently pinching a boxer's neck, lifting the opponent off the ground. Hearing the door sound, his head turned slowly, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints, yellow light shimmering within his slit pupils.
"Stark,"
his voice sounded like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together,
"you've come."
Lynn walked in, took off his jacket, and threw it onto an empty chair nearby:
"Put him down. You're not here to play amateur matches."
"I'm here to take what belongs to me,"
Bronski threw the boxer out, the man crashing against the ropes and sliding down limply,
"Hulk. You snatched him away. You made him listen to your words like a dog. That power was originally mine."
"Banner is not power,"
Lynn said,
"he is a person. You are the one who treats power like a dog."
Bronski grinned, revealing his deformed teeth:
"Then let me see how sturdy your cage is!"
Zero-frame startup.
He was even faster than what Harry sensed.
A punch smashed over, carrying the brute force of gamma mutation, squeezing a muffled sound out of the air.
Lynn's Spider-Sense exploded, side-stepping as that punch slammed into the cement pillar, cracking the pillar and splashing debris over half of his shoulder.
"Natasha,"
Lynn retreated,
"inhibitor."
"Finding an angle,"
Natasha stood on the other side of the ring, her pistol pointing at Bronski, but her brows were furrowed,
"His joints are too prominent; conventional joints can't be penetrated."
"Then hit the soft spots,"
Lynn went up to meet him, ducking to avoid Bronski's sweep, cutting into his inner circle and jabbing an elbow into the opponent's ribs.
Thud.
It was like hitting a rubber tire.
Bronski merely swayed, backhanded and grabbed Lynn's shoulder, lifting his entire person up and smashing him toward the ground.
Lynn twisted his waist in mid-air, planted both feet against his chest, leveraged the force to backflip, and landed steadily.
His shoulder burned with pain; the bone density of the 50-50 serum withstood it, but his muscles were protesting.
"You're weak,"
Bronski looked down at his own hands, infatuatedly rotating his wrists,
"Hulk is a hundred times stronger than you, but he listens to you. On what grounds? Just because you look like his dad?"
"Because I didn't force him,"
Lynn caught his breath,
"you pushed too hard, so he ran away."
Bronski let out a roar and pounced again.
This time, Natasha fired.
The silenced pistol fired three rounds, all hitting the nerve bundles at the back of Bronski's knees. There was no bone protection there; it was the "soft spot" Ivy mentioned.
Bronski's legs went soft, dropping to one knee, but he was still smiling.
"Not enough... this dosage... is not enough..."
"Then add some more,"
Lynn rushed over, pulling out the backup syringe from Natasha's waist,
inside of which was the concentrated inhibitor brewed by Ivy,
and drove a needle straight into the side of Bronski's neck.
Bronski's laughter came to an abrupt halt.
He widened his eyes, the yellow light in his pupils beginning to scatter, and his grayish-green skin slowly turning back to pale like a receding tide.
He kept his mouth open, still wanting to say something, but only let out a gurgling sound of air, before falling straight down, smashing onto the ring and kicking up a cloud of dust.
Natasha walked over and kicked his calf with the tip of her shoe:
"A knockoff is just a knockoff; the battery life is terrible."
The boxing ring's back door was kicked open.
Ross rushed in with a team of soldiers, rifles pointing at the stage.
He saw Bronski lying on the ground, and then saw the empty syringe in Lynn's hand, his face turning ashen.
"You ruined my soldier again,"
Ross said.
"He was never a soldier to begin with,"
Lynn tossed the syringe to Natasha,
"he's your test subject. Next time you want to build a monster, remember to buy insurance first."
Ross's mouth twitched. He waved his hand to have the soldiers carry Bronski away, his gaze falling onto Lynn's face:
"Banner... really listens to you?"
"He doesn't listen to anyone,"
Lynn scooped up his jacket from the chair, "he just learned when to be quiet."
Ross didn't speak again.
He turned and walked away following the stretcher, his back a bit more hunchbacked than when he came in.
Natasha holstered her pistol and jumped down from the edge of the ring, landing very lightly:
"Mission accomplished. Heading back?"
"Heading back,"
Lynn said,
"Harry is still waiting for a traffic report."
Suddenly, there was a static buzz in the comms channel, and Hill's voice cut in with a bit of current noise:
"Lynn, Betty wants to talk to you."
Then came Betty, her voice tight:
"Bronski... is he still alive?"
"Alive,"
Lynn walked out of the boxing ring,
"just sleeping. Your dad is taking him back, and will probably try again."
"Won't happen,"
Betty's voice lowered,
"I just talked on the phone with him. He said... he said maybe a cage is necessary, but he made it out of the wrong material."
Lynn's footsteps paused for a moment. He looked up at Brooklyn's sky, which was hazy and gray, like a poorly washed canvas.
"Tell him,"
Lynn said,
"iron cages will rust. Those made of human hearts last longer."
The channel went silent for a few seconds.
Then Gwen's voice cut in, with keyboard clicking sounds in the background:
"Lynn, Peter finished revising the report. Dr. Connors said the cell staining diagram can be published. He added your name to the signature column."
"I didn't contribute any effort,"
Lynn said.
"You did,"
Gwen said,
"you made him believe that sitting in a lab is just as important as standing on a rooftop."
Natasha chuckled nearby, very softly, only heard by Lynn.
"Let's go,"
she dangled the car keys,
"the driver is tired, your turn to drive."
"Me drive?"
"You drive,"
Natasha threw the keys to him,
"but don't drive too fast, this car just had a major overhaul."
Chapter 59 Graduation Ceremony
Peter loosened his tie for the third time, and Harry reached out to tie it back for him, his fingers tying a perfect Windsor knot on the bow tie.
"Graduation ceremony,"
Harry took a step back, sizing up Peter's graduation gown,
"don't look like someone going to a job interview."
"I'm nervous,"
Peter pushed up his glasses,
"my aunt is sitting in the audience, and she thinks I've spent the last six months in the library."
Gwen walked over from the other end of the corridor, her blonde hair coiled inside her graduation cap, revealing her smooth forehead.
She was holding three certificates in her hand and handed one to Harry:
"Yours. Dr. Connors asked me to pass it along, saying that you 'completed a special contribution under special circumstances'."
Harry took it, his fingertips brushing over the gold-stamped letters:
"Special contribution. Does that mean I didn't blow up the laboratory?"
"It means you survived,"
Gwen said, the corners of her mouth curving up,
"which is quite rare."
The music in the auditorium began to play, that graduation march heard for six years.
Peter took a deep breath and reached out to rest his hand on Harry's shoulder:
"Let's go. Walk in as a student one last time."
Harry didn't move.
His pupils suddenly contracted, glowing with an extremely faint green light.
The tip of his nose twitched, as if smelling some scent seeping up from the ground.
He lowered his head, looking at the floor beneath his feet, his voice becoming light and hollow:
"... Below."
Gwen frowned:
"What?"
"Beneath New York,"
Harry's fingers clenched tightly around the certificate, the edges of the paper crumpled into a ball,
"Lots of heartbeats. Very neat, like... like Hive incubating eggs. Not Bronski, not gamma. Something else. Smaller, more numerous, hungrier..."
Peter's hand slid down from Harry's shoulder, subconsciously blocking in front of Gwen:
"How deep?"
"Beneath the subway. The sewers. Very deep."
Harry raised his head, the green light receding, but his face was pale,
"They are waiting to break their shells. Waiting for a signal."
Lynn walked out from the corner of the corridor, wearing a dark gray suit without a tie. He pressed down on Harry's shoulder with a steady force:
"Can you locate it?"
"At the border of Brooklyn and Manhattan,"
Harry gasped,
"there's an old place down there, an iron door, very rusty, smelling like... like formalin and battery acid mixed together."
"A S.H.I.E.L.D. outpost,"
Lynn said,
"abandoned three years ago."
Stark Tower, medical floor.
Banner stood by the window, with his back to the door, clutching a worn canvas bag in his hand.
Betty blocked the doorway, her arms crossed, her chin held high.
"You're leaving again,"
she said. It wasn't a question.
"I'm not leaving,"
Banner's voice still had that gentle, always-ready-to-apologize tone,
"I'm keeping my distance. For your safety."
"Safety?" Betty let out a laugh, tinged with a bit of anger,
"I chased you for three months in Brazil, and another three months in New York.
I watched with my own eyes as you turned from a two-meter-tall green monster back into this Bruce Banner who can't even pack a backpack properly. You're talking to me about safety now?"
"Just because you've seen it,"
Banner turned around, his eyes tired,
"you should understand. I am not him, nor am I myself. I am a... that could explode at any moment."
"Cage?"
Betty took over,
"Lynn said you have a cage now. Then why do you still treat yourself like a bomb?"
"The cage was given by him,"
Banner said,
"but the key is not in my hands. What if one day..."
The door opened.
Lynn walked in with Harry, Peter, and Gwen.
Harry was still trembling slightly, and Gwen was holding his arm.
"Sorry to interrupt your argument,"
Lynn said, "but Harry sensed something incubating in the sewers. Banner, you need to listen."
Banner put down the canvas bag:
"What?"
Harry described it again. Tens of thousands of small heartbeats, consistent in rhythm, like a womb.
Not gamma, not serum, but some more primitive, collective pulsation.
Betty's professional instinct overcame her emotions. She walked quickly to the tablet and pulled up the New Yorkunderground pipeline network map:
"A S.H.I.E.L.D. abandoned outpost... here, Area B-12. If they built the incubation pools near the water cycle, they could transport the nodes through the pipes to the whole city."
"Nodes?"
Peter leaned in.
"Miniature serum capsules,"
Gwen looked down and marked on the tablet,
"long-term latency after human implantation. Hydra's new trick, no super soldiers, a Hive for everyone."
Banner looked at the map, his fingers subconsciously rubbing the backpack strap:
"If it's large-scale biological cultivation... Hulk's frequency might be able to interfere. But I'm not sure."
"You don't need to be sure,"
Lynn said,
"you need to stay."
Banner looked up at him.
"You're not afraid of hurting her,"
Lynn raised his chin toward Betty,
"you're afraid of her seeing you lose control. But if you leave, she'll still see it
on the news, on the wanted posters, in the photos of the ruins of your next transformation. You think that's protection? That's leaving the worst image for her to imagine all by herself."
Betty stood aside without speaking, her fingers clutching the edge of her lab coat pocket.
Banner remained silent for a long time.
He looked at Betty, then at Harry—
that young man who also had a monster living inside him, who was quietly sitting in a chair at this moment, waiting for his reply.
"... I'm not leaving,"
Banner said.
Betty's shoulders relaxed:
"You said it."
"I said it. But you have to stand further away,"
Banner stretched out a finger,
"at least... ten meters."
"Five meters."
"Seven meters."
"Deal."
Betty finally smiled, faint, but genuine. She walked over and helped Banner zip up his canvas bag,
"Put the bag down first. Then listen to Harry finish."
Peter watched this scene from the side, gently nudging Gwen with his elbow:
"Will we... argue like this in the future too?"
Gwen didn't even raise her head:
"If you secretly wear your suit to attend the graduation ceremony again, yes."
"I didn't wear the suit,"
Peter lowered his head and tugged at his graduation gown, "I hid it in the auditorium locker.
Just... just in case."
"In case pigeons cause trouble?"
"In case what Harry sensed breaks its shell early,"
Peter said seriously.
Natasha walked in from the door, dressed in black casual clothes, holding a cup of coffee in her hand:
"Good news, the pigeons in the auditorium are all very quiet. Bad news, Hill just confirmed that the temperature in Area B-12 is rising, like someone is burning a boiler down there."
"Not a boiler,"
Harry said in a low voice,
"it's heartbeats. They're about to wake up."
Lynn looked at Banner:
"Can we go? The seven-meter cage needs to be set up at the scene first."
Banner put the canvas bag back into the cabinet and nodded.
Betty raised the tablet:
"I'll be at the ground command center. Beyond seven meters, real-time monitoring."
"Six meters,"
Banner said.
"Seven meters,"
Betty insisted, but her eyes were smiling.
"... Fine, seven meters."
Chapter 60 Meeting Gwen
The bar was on the second floor at the street corner, with no sign, and only a copper bell hanging at the entrance.
When Gwen pushed the door open, the bell struck the wooden frame, its sound shattering into pieces.
Lynn sat at the very back of the bar, with an untouched glass of whiskey in front of him.
He raised his chin, and Gwen walked over, not sitting beside him, but directly onto his lap.
The bartender glanced over in this direction and silently turned back to wipe the glass.
"Did Peter send you back?"
Lynn asked.
"To the subway entrance,"
Gwen took the glass from his hand, took a sip, and frowned,
"Strong."
"Then don't drink it."
"I want to drink,"
she said,
"Graduating today, there has to be some kind of adult ritual."
Lynn's hand rested on her waist, through the fabric of her shirt, burning hot:
"You and that kid, have you settled things?"
Gwen lowered her eyes, spinning the wine glass:
"He held my hand and said that wherever I stand in the future, he will stand guard right above it. Dead earnest."
She paused, raising her eyes to look at Lynn,
"But you know, some doors can't be closed once pushed open. I'm not complaining."
"Are you warning me?"
"I'm stating a fact,"
Gwen put down the glass, her fingertips brushing across his Adam's apple,
"I've become greedy. Lynn, this is your fault."
The bartender pushed a glass of Water over, said nothing, and stepped back again.
Lynn smiled and grasped her fingers:
"Then be a little greedier. Don't go back tonight."
Gwen didn't answer, stood up, and pulled his hand as she walked out.
The hotel room was on the fifth floor.
The curtains weren't fully drawn, and the neon lights from the building opposite leaked in, casting a red patch on the sheets.
Gwen kicked off her shoes, leaned her back against the door, and looked up at him.
"Banner said there's noise in your blood,"
she said softly,
"Like many people talking at once. Tonight I want to hear if it's really that noisy."
Before her voice fell, a torrential storm suddenly descended.
She had thought she was teasing a docile cat, but who knew she was triggering a tsunami.
Wave after wave crashed down without a moment to breathe, the course forcibly twisted at the highest point, the feeling of weightlessness tearing repeatedly.
She was like a small boat thrown into the deep sea, her rudder long since shattered, able only to roll and tumble with the ocean currents.
"Slowly..."
She grabbed onto him,
"No..."
What answered her was...
"Spare..."
Her voice shattered in her throat, her gaze beginning to blur,
"...going to drown..."
When the storm finally subsided, she collapsed into the bedding, as if her bones had been drawn out, not even wanting to move her fingers.
Her bangs stuck to her cheeks, her chest rising and falling very lightly.
Her mind was blank; compared to tonight, those hand-holdings in the lab and awkward probings in the hallway before were like homework handed in by students.
She turned her head to look at Lynn, taking a long while to find her voice:
"That noise of yours is indeed noisy."
Lynn lay flat on his back with his arms pillowing the back of his head, the corners of his mouth curving:
"Still used to it?"
"Deaf,"
Gwen closed her eyes,
"Temporarily deaf."
The cell phone on the bedside table vibrated.
Lynn stretched out his arm to grab it and turned on speakerphone.
Hill's voice cut in, with the sound of keyboard tapping in the background:
"If you guys are done, listen to me for a couple of words."
Gwen opened her eyes abruptly, grabbed the quilt to block her chin, her ears turning red.
Lynn's expression remained unchanged:
"Speak."
"The temperature in Zone B-12 has risen by another two degrees,"
Hill said,
"Betty detected a sudden change in Water quality, and the activity of those eggs is accelerating.
Harry said they are hungry and might hatch at any time."
Betty's voice interjected from the background:
"Banner has already gone down and is waiting for you at the entrance.
He said his 'cage' can only cover seven meters, not a centimeter more."
"Is Gwen there?"
Harry's voice suddenly popped up with a bit of static noise,
"Queen Bee, if Gwen is going, remember to let her wear waterproof boots. The Water down there is corrosive."
Gwen poked her head out from under the quilt, her voice still a bit hoarse:
"I'm here. Which sample bottle should I bring?"
"Number three,"
Betty said,
"Blue cap, acid-resistant."
"Received,"
Gwen propped herself up to sit, her legs still weak, and she glared at Lynn,
"Give me five minutes. My bones need to go back into place."
Lynn said into the phone:
"We'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Don't be late,"
Hill said,
"Those eggs won't wait for people."
The phone hung up. Gwen flipped the quilt away, looking for her clothes on the floor, her fingers still trembling slightly.
Lynn leaned against the head of the bed looking at her, his gaze resting on her waist dimples.
"Really going?"
he asked.
"Nonsense,"
Gwen slipped on her shirt, looked back at him, her eyes very bright,
"You think I only know how to lie here and beg for mercy?"
Lynn chuckled, getting up to grab his pants:
"Then let's go. Solve the things below first, then solve you."
"Who solves whom is not yet certain,"
Gwen pulled open the door, turning back to raise an eyebrow,
"Just now someone got scratched with a back full of marks by me."
Lynn followed her out, the corridor light stretching his shadow long.
Chapter 61 B-12
The maintenance manhole was at the end of an alleyway, its cover sprayed with faded yellow paint.
When Lynn and Gwen arrived, Natasha was squatting on the ground inspecting the cables, while Harry sat next to a fire hydrant,
drawing an invisible route map on the ground with his fingertips.
Banner leaned against the wall with a communicator jammed in his ear, speaking in a very soft voice:
"Heart rate sixty-eight. Very steady."
Betty immediately replied in the channel:
"Maintain. Remember seven meters."
"Six and a half meters."
"Seven meters."
"... Fine, seven meters."
Banner removed the communicator, looked up to see Lynn, and shrugged,
"She's getting more and more stubborn."
The manhole cover suddenly moved, pushed open half an inch from inside.
Peter's face emerged from the gap, water droplets hanging from his hair and his lenses fogged up.
He climbed up, patted the mud off his knees, and his gaze directly bypassed Lynn, landing on Gwen.
"You didn't answer your phone,"
he said.
"It was on silent,"
Gwen stuffed the sample vial into her waterproof waist pouch,
"Why are you here?"
"I said at the graduation ceremony, wherever you are, I'm guarding up above."
Peter squatted down and completely pried open the manhole cover, a muffled sound of flowing water coming from underneath,
"This is down below. So I'm guarding the opening. You go down, and I'll pull you up."
Gwen looked at him without speaking.
The night wind blew over, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly reaching out to help straighten Peter's crooked glasses:
"You've grown up, Parker."
"I've always been big,"
Peter murmured,
"you just weren't looking."
Natasha tossed the cable into the manhole, the metal buckle striking the pipe wall with a crisp echo:
"Small talk is over. Harry, lead the way."
Harry stood up, his nose twitching, his pupils glowing with an extremely faint green in the dark:
"Turn left, main pipeline. There's a junction thirty meters ahead, the concentration is higher on the right, take the left."
"Received,"
Lynn grabbed the rope and slid down first.
The space in the pipe was cramped, the water level reaching up to their calves, flowing slowly, but the odor was pungent, rust mixed with the bitterness of some chemical reagent.
Banner came down second, suppressing the splash to a minimum upon landing.
Gwen slid down after, her waterproof boots stepping into the water, the splashing sound magnified into echoes within the pipe.
Natasha brought up the rear, the manhole cover closing above her head, cutting Peter's figure into a round bright spot before disappearing.
"He won't just wait idly up there,"
Gwen turned on her flashlight, the beam sweeping across the green moss on the pipe wall,
"he'll be counting our footsteps."
"Let him count,"
Lynn said,
"when he gets tired of counting, he can do his homework."
Harry suddenly stopped, pressing his fingers against a section of the pipe wall:
"Ahead. They're awake."
Banner's breathing grew heavy.
He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing the special harness inside
modified by Betty to monitor muscle expansion coefficients.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose:
"I'll count to three. Back up."
"Not backing up,"
Lynn said,
"you cover seven meters, we take six meters, right inside your cage."
Banner glanced at him, the corners of his mouth twitching as if trying to smile, but his skin was already turning green.
Blood vessels bulged along the side of his neck, not with a painful twist, but with a kind of forcibly suppressed expansion.
He took a deep breath, his chest emitting a bellows-like low hum, his bones rearranging beneath skin and flesh with subtle clicking sounds.
Hulk opened his eyes, but his gaze still held Banner's clarity. He lowered his head to look at his palms, his voice sounding as if squeezed from deep within his chest:
"These... little things... are noisy."
"Then make them quiet,"
Lynn said.
They turned into the main room of the outpost.
The space suddenly opened up, like a hollowed-out underground stomach. Dozens of transparent pipes hung down from the ceiling, their ends connected to spherical containers,
each container suspending a fingernail-sized embryo in a translucent state, with blood vessels as orderly as a circuit board. The containers pulsed like collective breathing.
Gwen raised her detector, the numbers on the screen jumping wildly:
"Gamma value exceeds the limit by forty times. They aren't mutating... it's synchronization, all heartbeats are at the same frequency."
"A swarm,"
Harry covered his nose, his voice muffled,
"the one in the middle... is the Queen."
Right in the center of the room, a metal sphere was embedded at the intersection of the pipes, its surface covered with fine patterns,
exactly identical to the Cassandra core Lynn had seen in Sokovia, only one-third smaller.
Red light flowed across the surface of the sphere, like blood racing through capillaries.
Natasha raised her gun:
"Blow it up?"
"Wait,"
Lynn raised his hand,
"it's talking."
The sphere emitted a low-frequency resonance, and then Howard's recording played.
The voice was very old, carrying the static of worn magnetic tape, but every word was very clear:
"If you're hearing this, it means Cassandra has awakened.
She is neither enemy nor friend, she is the gatekeeper. What lies behind the door, I failed to see. But you are the key, Lynn. Always have been."
Gwen abruptly turned her head to look at Lynn:
"The key? What does that mean?"
"It means the old man left me homework again,"
Lynn took a step closer to the sphere, his Spider-Sensegently vibrating beneath his scalp, not a sense of danger, but some kind of recognition,
"and he didn't give the answer."
The red light of the sphere suddenly brightened.
Banner-Hulk stepped forward, his large hand pressing onto the surface of the sphere, gamma energy surging from his palm like a green membrane wrapping around the metal.
A sharp screech came from inside the sphere, and those suspended embryos twisted simultaneously, like birds being choked by the neck.
"It's going to self-destruct,"
Hill's voice cut into the channel,
"the energy is collapsing inward!"
"Betty,"
Banner's voice rolled out from Hulk's throat, surprisingly still maintaining Banner's tone,
"countdown."
"Three," Betty's voice was steady.
Natasha pulled Gwen and retreated toward the pipe opening.
"Two."
Lynn didn't retreat.
He stared at the last line of code flashing across the surface of the sphere; it was coordinates, half-shattered by Hulk's gamma interference, but he recognized the prefix:
mountains, snow line, temple.
"One."
The sphere shattered into powder in Hulk's hands, and the red light went out.
The embryos in those pipes stiffened simultaneously, like lightbulbs unplugged from their power source, and the transparent liquid poured down from the pipes, mixing with the sewer water to turn into a turbid gray.
The channel fell silent for a few seconds.
Then came Ivy's voice, carrying that characteristic languidness of hers, but with a tense ending note:
"Upload interrupted. But I caught the flow direction at the very last moment—
not outer space, darling. It's the Himalayas, deep down. I'm sending the coordinates to your phone."
Lynn wiped the water off his face without speaking.
Banner's size shrank, the green skin retreating into his body like an outgoing tide, and the monitoring light on the harness changed from red to green. He panted, leaning against the wall:
"... Seven meters. Just right."
"Six and a half meters,"
Betty said in the channel, "Don't bargain next time."
They retreated along the same path. Peter sat by the manhole, and hearing the footsteps, immediately threw the cable down.
Gwen went up first, her hands very wet, and Peter gripped them tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"How is it down below?"
He asked.
Gwen knelt on the edge of the manhole, looking down at him, her hair still dripping water:
"Noisy. Now I want some quiet."
Peter didn't ask anymore. He pulled her up and casually took off his jacket to drape over her shoulders.
The jacket was Peter's, its cuffs frayed, carrying the scent of laundry detergent and circuit board solder.
Natasha came up last, patting Lynn's shoulder:
"Mr. Key, go home and get a good night's sleep. Starting tomorrow, you've got a whole mountain of puzzles to solve."
Lynn looked at the coordinates sent by Ivy on his phone screen, an altitude of over eight thousand, with the prefix K.
"Not puzzles,"
he said, "it's a door."
Chapter 62: Two People Together
Stark Tower, workshop.
Tony pushed the holographic model in front of Lynn. It was an exoskeleton frame, with lines much thinner than the armor, resembling a skeleton.
"It was modified by dismantling the Mark III thrusters,"
Tony bit into a hamburger,
"Six hours of oxygen circulation, enough for you to climb to the snowline. Further up... you're on your own."
Pepper stood nearby holding a folder, tapping the tip of her pen on the paper:
"Did Fury cover the logistics?"
"He covered it,"
Lynn spun the model,
"He said S.H.I.E.L.D. has a supply point in Nepal, which will be in place in a week."
"Egghead is rarely generous,"
Tony scoffed,
"He probably wants to see what kind of treasure the old man actually hid."
"What he hid isn't a treasure,"
Lynn said,
"It's homework."
Pepper glanced at her watch:
"Leave in a week, go to sleep early tonight. Don't die in the workshop."
Tony raised an eyebrow:
"He won't die, he's tougher than a cockroach."
"Thanks for the compliment,"
Lynn got up, folding the exoskeleton blueprints into his pocket,
"I'm heading out."
"Where are you going?"
"Test-driving,"
Lynn didn't look back,
"Two cars, servicing them at the same time."
Pepper didn't understand, but Tony did, the sound of him gritting his teeth was loud:
"... It's great to be young."
The hotel was at the end of Seventh Avenue. The suite was very large with the curtains drawn.
Hill arrived first, leaning back on the sofa and loosening her tie. Natasha was mixing drinks at the bar, three glasses.
When Lynn walked in, Natasha pushed one of the glasses over:
"Seven minutes late."
"Tony talks too much,"
Lynn took off his jacket,
"What were you guys talking about?"
"Talking about you,"
Hill sat up straight, her legs crossed, her stockings gleaming with a matte finish under the lights,
"Natasha said your performance under B-12 was okay, didn't hold us back."
"Just okay?"
"Don't get cocky,"
Natasha walked over, clinking the glass lightly against his lips,
"Tonight is a double evaluation. The logistics Directorapproved the vacation, and we... approved ourselves."
The tips of Hill's ears were a little red, but her voice was steady:
"You're getting a bargain. Think carefully, it's still not too late to back out now."
Lynn gripped her wrist, his fingertips sliding to the edge of her cuff:
"I never drop out of an exam."
Before his voice faded, a fierce storm descended abruptly.
First was Hill.
Like a warship driven by precision instruments, she initially tried to steer and maintain her course, but the wheel had long been blown away by the waves.
The eye of the storm rolled right through the center. She suddenly arched her back, a fractured gasp squeezing from her throat:
"... Slower..."
"No brakes,"
His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper.
"You..."
She wanted to say something harsh, but another wave crashed down, shattering her words between her teeth.
On the other side, Natasha's situation was no better.
She was used to being in control, but tonight the steering wheel had completely failed.
The car body lost control amidst the bumps, its suspension system compressed to the limit, rebounding to an even higher arc with every bottoming out.
She bit his ear, her voice intermittent:
"... Bastard..."
The storm lasted for an entire night.
Later, Hill collapsed on one side, locks of hair plastered to her forehead, her chest heaving as if she had just finished a marathon.
She stared at the ceiling, her gaze unfocused, taking a long time to recover her language function:
"... Almost didn't make it through."
Natasha lay buried in the pillows, revealing only half her face, laughing muffledly:
"When I counted to the third time, I thought you were going to call time."
"I didn't have the strength to call,"
Hill pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders,
"My throat is hoarse."
Lynn lay flat on his back, an arm on either side, his sweat-dampened skin pressed against the sheets.
He caught his breath:
"Then... that's great?"
Hill turned her head to look at him, her gaze slowly refocusing from being unfocused, and suddenly reached out to pinch his waist:
"You got a bargain. If you ever dare to book two cars at the same time again, I'll dismantle your engine."
"There won't be a next time,"
Natasha closed her eyes, her voice vague,
"At least not this week. The parts are scrapped."
Lynn looked at the ceiling, the corners of his mouth curving:
"Then we'll talk after they're fixed next week."
"Get lost,"
Two voices rang out simultaneously, carrying the same exhaustion and the same indulgence.
Chapter 63: Defaulting on a Debt
The night before departure, the phone vibrated once.
Gwen's message contained only the hotel room number and two words: "Come here."
When Lynn pushed the door open and entered, Gwen was sitting on the edge of the bed with a laptop on her knees, its screen glowing.
She didn't look back, her fingers sliding on the trackpad:
"Peter just sent me the cracking progress, the blank chain of the ADAM project..."
She paused, closed the computer, and turned to look at him:
"Let's not talk about that for now. I noticed earlier that I saw Hill and Natasha downstairs in the building."
Lynn pulled the door shut with a click:
"Mhm."
"The way both of them walked was off,"
Gwen tilted her head, her blonde hair hanging down her shoulders,
"Hill is usually like a ruler, but today her waist sagged by half an inch.
Natasha is even more exaggerated; she held onto the wall when walking down the stairs."
Lynn walked over to the bar and poured himself some Water:
"You're very observant."
"It only takes a glance for a woman to look at another woman,"
Gwen put the laptop on the bedside table,
"What did you do?"
"Maintaining the vehicles."
"Maintaining two cars at the same time?"
"They actively submitted them for inspection,"
Lynn took a sip of Water,
"It was hard for me to refuse."
Gwen smiled slightly, not a happy smile, but a sort of resigned, slightly sour smile:
"The men of the Stark Family are indeed all damned."
"Tony is even more damned."
"You rank first,"
Gwen stood up, walked in front of him, raised her head,
"I originally wanted to scold you. But halfway through, I realized I had no qualification. I'm also here for inspection."
"You aren't."
"Then what am I here for?"
Lynn put down the cup, his fingers running through her hair:
"Here to renege."
Gwen was stunned for a moment, then reached out to untie his shirt buttons:
"Yes. Renege. I'ratherll renege on you for the rest of my life. You open the door, and I come in.
If you don't close the door, I will stay and refuse to leave."
Before the words fell, a violent storm arrived abruptly.
She was like a small boat that actively sailed into the storm zone, thinking she was fully prepared, only to find that the sea conditions far exceeded the forecast.
The waves didn't come one by one; an entire wall slapped over, the hull trembled violently, and the keel let out an unbearable moan.
She gripped the only fixed object tightly, her nails sinking in, shouting intermittently in the wind and waves:
"... You..."
"Mhm?"
"... Heartless..."
The storm had no mercy.
The boat was lifted to the crest of the wave, then thrown into the valley bottom, the feeling of weightlessness tearing repeatedly.
She thought she would fall apart, but every time she hit the bottom, she was pushed up by an even fiercer wave.
The last clap of thunder exploded overhead, her back arched abruptly, and like a puppet whose strings had been pulled, she slumped softly into the bedding.
Her mind was completely blank.
Those naive probings in the past, holding hands in the hallway, compared to tonight, were like pencil marks on draft paper.
She turned her head to look at him, panting for a long time before recovering her voice:
"... You're leaving tomorrow?"
"Mhm."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I don't know."
Gwen buried her face in the pillow, her voice muffled:
"Then you better come back. What I said just now wasn't a joke. I've reneged in this life. If you die in the mountains..."
"What then?"
"I'll publish your blank chain,"
She raised her head, her eyes very bright,
"Let the entire world know that Leon Stark is an unfilled form."
Lynn smiled and reached out to brush away her sweat-damp bangs:
"Then I'll fill it out now."
The phone vibrated on the bedside table.
Lynn stretched out his arm to grab it and turned on speakerphone. Tony's voice exploded out, with mechanical roaring in the background:
"Exoskeleton final calibration, where are you?"
"Hotel."
"Which hotel?"
Lynn glanced at Gwen. Gwen spoke into the phone:
"Mr. Stark, your younger brother is filling out a form. It's very important."
The other end of the phone paused for two seconds. Then came Pepper's voice, with a smile:
"Tony, don't ask anymore. Let him finish filling it out."
Tony muttered and cursed something else, and the phone hung up.
Gwen took the phone over, pressed shutdown, and threw it back onto the bedside table:
"Continue filling it out."
"Fill out where?"
"The blank space,"
Her hand was placed on her own chest,
"Here. It's been empty for a long time."