Chapter 73 False Alarm
At 2:17 a.m., the sensor went off.
It wasn't a shrill alarm, but a low-frequency buzzing, like someone pressing a telephone receiver against the wall.
Wanda sprang out of bed and rushed barefoot into the hallway, Red Mist already crumpled at her fingertips. She burst into her parents' bedroom, Irina clutching the blanket, and Oleg reaching for his cane by the bedside.
"Don't move,"
Wanda lowered her voice.
"I'll go."
Pietro's room was empty.
The window was open, and the silver-gray figure spun around in the yard, moving as fast as a fleeting gust of wind.
Wanda opened the window, and a cold wind rushed in. She called out:
"What's going on?"
"garbage can,"
Pietro's voice drifted back from the other side of the wall, panting.
"Wildcat. Flipped three times."
Wanda didn't relax.
She pulled out a note from her apron pocket; the edges of the paper were already crumpled.
My fingertip hovered over the button for a second before pressing it.
The busy signal only rang once.
"I am here,"
Lynn's voice leaked from the receiver, with engine sounds in the background.
"Three minutes."
Wanda leaned against the doorframe, and Red Mist slowly withdrew:
"...It's a cat."
"I know,"
Lynn said,
"The sensor transmitted the image. I'll sleep after I arrive."
The call ended.
Wanda looked down at her hands, which were still trembling.
She put her hand in her pocket and touched the cold metal edge of the damping ring.
As Lynn's headlights cut into the yard, Wanda was already standing at the door, wearing an oversized coat that reached her knees.
Pietro leaned against a porch pillar, holding the culprit cat by the scruff of its neck; the orange cat's four legs were dangling in the air, kicking wildly.
"Let it go,"
Lynn got out of the car, leaving the door open; the headlights cast long shadows of the three people.
"It won't dare come again next time."
Pietro let go, and the cat darted into the bushes, rustling the leaves.
He brushed the dust off his pants and yawned.
"You're speeding in the middle of the night just for this thing?"
"Your sister called me,"
Lynn said,
"I have to come."
Pietro glanced at Wanda, didn't reply, turned and went inside, his footsteps thumping loudly on the stairs.
Wanda remained standing there, her coat collar turned up, obscuring half her face.
"Were you frightened?"
Lynn asked.
"No,"
Wanda said,
"I just... don't want to wait for the sound every time."
"Then we'll just fight directly next time,"
Lynn closed the car door with a crisp click.
"No need to wait for a sound."
The TV was on in the living room, at a very low volume, playing an old movie. The black and white screen showed someone smoking.
Irina and Oleg had already gone back to their room; there was no light coming through the crack in the door. Pietro's door was also closed.
Wanda was curled up in a corner of the sofa, her knees against her chest. Lynn sat at the other end, with a cushion between them.
The white figure in the electric figure is very light, as if it drifted over from a very far place.
"My dad said,"
Wanda suddenly spoke up.
"Back in Sokovia, if you heard any noise in the middle of the night, it was from artillery shells."
"This is not Sokovia,"
Lynn said,
"This is Long Island. No shells, but plenty of wildcats."
Wanda smiled slightly, the corners of her mouth curving into a shallow smile.
She leaned back, her head against the back of the sofa, and her eyelids began to droop.
The electronic figure was still playing, the background music like a blanket, slowly covering it.
Lynn didn't move.
He turned down the TV volume and placed the remote control on the coffee table with a very soft sound.
Wanda is asleep.
His breathing was light, his fingers still clutching the cuff of his coat. Lynn stared at the screen, the light figuresswitching back and forth across his face.
He didn't leave, but simply changed his sitting position to make the sofa make less noise from the weight of his body.
7:00 AM, Tony's lab.
The cell slices under the microscope had a bluish hue. Tonyadjusted the focus and suddenly clicked his tongue.
"Not the same person,"
He didn't even look up.
"Or rather, not the same body."
Lynn leaned against the table, twirling her car keys in her hand.
"What's the meaning?"
"Telomeres in Long Island footprints,"
Tony tapped the screen, and the image of the DNA strand was magnified.
"The samples from the Himalayas age three times faster. Like... photocopies, copied too many times, the ink hasfaded."
"A clone?"
"molt,"
Tony corrected him.
"When a snake grows up, it needs to shed its skin, and ADAM-0 is also changing its skin. What remains on Long Island is an old skin; its true form is probably the molting stage it's in."
"He is observing,"
Lynn said,
"Use the old leather to scout the way, and hide behind it."
"clever,"
Tony took off his goggles.
"It's troublesome. It's no use using old leather; he can print new leather anytime."
Lynn put the key in her pocket:
"Then we'll need to find a printing press."
"The printing press is in his head,"
Tony said,
"Or rather, it's in the DNA. Only the old man knows exactly how many copies Howard printed back then."
In the afternoon, at the reception area on the 27th floor of Stark Tower.
Gwen spread an organic chemistry book out on the table, pointing to a formula on a certain page:
"For esterification, just remember this bond position. The exam won't test the derivation, only the product."
Pietro lay sprawled on the table, chin resting on his arm, eyes fixed on the formula as if he were reading a cipher:
Why do I need to learn this?
"Because you are now a registered intern at Stark Industries,"
Gwen said,
"Without academic credits, Tony can't pay you a salary."
Did he send it?
"It's been sent,"
Gwen pushed her payslip over.
"Last week's money is in your account. Enough to buy a hundred pairs of running shoes."
Pietro picked up the payslip, held it up to the light, and his lips twitched slightly:
"...My sister has one too?"
"She has more than you,"
Gwen said,
"She has a title: lab voltage regulator. You're the punching bag in the training room."
Pietro folded his payslip and stuffed it into his pocket.
He was silent for a moment, then suddenly asked:
Why did you choose him?
Gwen's fingertips paused as she turned the pages.
" Lynn,"
Pietro said,
"You can live your own life without getting involved in these things."
Gwen closed the book, the cover tapping softly on the table.
"Because he didn't see me as a princess who needed saving."
Pietro frowned:
"What's the meaning?"
It means,
Gwen said,
He opened the door and let me walk in myself. Not carried in, but walked in.
Pietro thought for a moment, then gently wiggled his knees under the table:
"What about my sister?"
Gwen looked at him, her eyes shining:
"Your sister is a knight herself. She just happens to want to get through that door."
Pietro didn't say anything.
He looked down at the chemical formulas, then suddenly reached out, straightened the book, and turned to the previous page:
"...Say this key binding again."
Evening at Long Island Villa.
Wanda stood in front of the sink, water was running, but she hadn't washed her hands.
She removed the suppression ring, and the metal ring spun around in her palm.
The scratches on the inside are deeper than yesterday, and there's a new one, as if someone secretly filed it twice with a fine file in the night.
She tried to wrap it with Red Mist.
The mist was thin, like a veil, drifting along the metal surface. The moment it touched a scratch, my mind went blank.
The screen exploded.
There are no railings on the rooftop of the building opposite Stark Tower.
A man in a hoodie sat there with his legs dangling in mid-air, his golden eyes staring in that direction.
He neither smiled nor moved; he simply watched, as if waiting for a signal.
The image lasted for one second, then shattered.
Wanda suddenly opened her eyes; the water tap was still running.
She turned it off, and static from the TV came from the living room. Oleg was laughing, and Irina was saying something.
The water glass on the coffee table had a very light ripple on its surface, and it was still sloshing around.
Chapter 74 War Machine and the Black Swan
Rhodes slammed the Military's official letter onto Tony's desk; the paper bounced up and then fell back down.
"They want three sets,"
Rhodes said,
"Two sets for the Army, one set for the Air Force. The color scheme should not be gold, but matte green."
Tony's welding torch didn't stop, and fire splattered across the armored face shield.
"Tell them my armor isn't for sale. Not negotiating, it's sold out."
"This is not procurement,"
Rhodes pushed the letter forward a bit.
"It's a defense requirement. Even if you shut down the weapons department, the military still needs something to defend itself."
"Buy a bulletproof vest,"
Tony said,
"I recommend Kevlar; it's breathable and washable."
Rhodes took a deep breath and tapped his fingers on the table:
" Tony, I'm here as a friend."
The welding torch stopped.
Tony took off his goggles, looked at Rhodes, and gave a slight smirk:
"Friends? Fine, let me tell you, those Military guys will treat the armor like a new toy, test it in the Middle East first, and then use it to suppress protests. I'm not giving it to them."
"And what about me?"
Tony didn't say anything.
He turned around, picked up a spare reactor model from the shelf, and tossed it to Rhodes.
Rhodes caught it; the metal felt heavy in his hand.
"You're different,"
Tony said,
"I'm at ease if you wear it. It's not for the Military, it's for you."
Pick the color yourself, but don't choose green, it looks like a frog.
Rhodes looked down at the reactor, his thumb tracing the edge:
"...Seriously?"
When have I ever been unserious with you?
Tony turned back and continued welding.
"But there's a condition. Your system, the serial number belongs to me, the data belongs to me, and don't even think about getting any backdoors into the Military. It's called the War Machine, it's not government property, it's your private property."
Rhodes tucked the reactor into his pocket and patted it.
"Deal. Shall I buy you a drink?"
"Another day,"
Tony gestured with his chin towards the door.
"My brother is busier than me, you should ask him to have a drink."
Lynn answered the phone at the end of the corridor.
Ivy's voice seeped from the receiver, like smoke, or the soft sound of silk rubbing together.
"I'm in New York,"
She said, "I just got off the plane."
"I know,"
Lynn said,
"Your flight information has been sitting on my phone for six hours."
"Aren't you coming to pick me up?"
"I was afraid of bothering you,"
Lynn said,
"The big boss is extremely busy."
Ivy chuckled briefly, her voice slightly hoarse:
"Come on. I missed you. Really."
Lynn looked out the window, her finger tracing a trail of mist on the glass:
"address."
Ivy's apartment is in Midtown Manhattan, on a high floor, with the floor-to-ceiling curtains half-drawn.
She was wearing a black silk shirt, the hem of which just went past her upper thighs, and she was barefoot on the carpet without socks.
The door wasn't locked.
Lynn pushed the door open and came in. She handed her a glass of wine, but Lynn didn't take it. Instead, she pinned her against the wall in the entryway.
Half of the wine was spilled, leaving a dark stain on the front of the shirt.
"The wine is expensive,"
Ivy said her breathing was erratic.
"I'll compensate you,"
Lynn said.
What happened next happened very quickly.
Three buttons on the shirt were undone, and the rest were torn open, making a soft tearing sound as the silk was pulled apart.
Ivy was like a fish gliding into deep water, his back arched, his fingers digging into his hair, his nails scraping his scalp.
The sheets were pressed down deeply, like the sea after a storm, heavy with moisture.
She kept her eyes open, her pupils shining brightly in the darkness, looking at him as if she were looking at some kind of phantom figure about to disappear.
After the storm subsided, she lay on his chest, drawing circles on his collarbone with her fingertips, one circle, two circles, and then stopped.
"I have something to tell you,"
She said.
"Um."
"My money,"
Ivy's voice was soft, but every word was clear.
It's not all the money that the modeling agency earns.
SHIELD's senior management has three private accounts that transfer money to my offshore fund every month.
I'm not one of their people, but I'm taking their money.
Lynn didn't move.
He stared at the ceiling, his fingers running through her long hair.
Why are you telling me this?
"Because you'll investigate sooner or later,"
Ivy raised her head, her chin resting against his sternum.
"Rather than let you find out, I'd rather lie here and say it. My background isn't clean, but my body is clean. At least to you, it's clean."
Who are you?
"broker,"
Ivy said,
"Information broker. Howard Stark supported me for ten years, I owe him. After he died, I continued to watch over certain accounts and certain people for him. Including Fury, including Pierce, including... you."
Lynn turned her head and looked at her.
There was no guilt in Ivy's eyes, only a sense of relief after handing in the answer sheet.
Howard knew you would come,
She said,
He left me a sentence in his will:
' Don't lie when Lynn asks. He's more accurate than a lie detector.'
"So you said it today."
"Because I can't wait any longer,"
Ivy buried her face in the crook of his neck, her voice muffled.
"If we wait any longer, I'm afraid you'll treat me like another bomb that needs to be defused. I don't want to be defused, Lynn. I want to be kept alive."
Lynn reached out and pulled the blanket up to cover her bare shoulders.
He didn't say anything, but just kissed the top of her head lightly, like stamping a seal.
"Keep it,"
He said,
"But next time you collect the money, tell me the amount. I'll check it for you."
Ivy smiled, her shoulders trembling slightly in his arms.
At 3 a.m., Lynn returned to Stark Tower.
Tony was still in the studio, painting Mark III halfway through, and the whole room smelled of paint.
" Rhodes is gone?"
Lynn asked.
"He left, hugging the reactor like he was hugging his first love,"
Tony didn't turn around. "Where did you go? You smell like perfume. "
"Check the accounts."
"They found out about your bed?"
"The numbers on the bed are clear,"
Lynn said, "It's not easy to fake."
Tony finally turned around, looked at him, and his eyes were bright:
"What did you find?"
" Ivy is the old man's man,"
Lynn said,
"They've been watching over SHIELD's money bag for us."
Tony paused for a moment, then burst out laughing, twirling the welding torch in his hand:
"...That old man is a real worry even in death. So what are you planning to do? Take her in?"
"She's already mine,"
Lynn said,
"I only found out today that she had been in debt to the Stark Family for a long time."
Tony pushed his goggles up, revealing the oil stains on his forehead:
"The more debt you have, the less you need to worry. You owe even more anyway."
"I won't renege on my debt,"
Lynn said,
"Pay it back one bill at a time."
Chapter 75 The Golden Butterfly
Morning light pierced through the gap in the curtains, casting a narrow patch of light on the sheets.
Ivy rolled over, draped her arm over Lynn's waist, and lazily traced lines with her fingertips:
"Lie down for another twenty minutes."
"There's a meeting at nine."
Lynn buttoned her shirt, but the third button wasn't aligned properly, so she unbuttoned it again and re-buttoned it.
" If Tony wants to yell at Rhodes, I have to be there to listen."
"Why are you getting involved in your brother's swearing?"
"Remember this for Rhodes,"
Lynn rolled up her cuffs.
"These materials can be used as a speech when he gets married in the future."
Ivy chuckled softly, burying her face in the pillow, her voice muffled:
"...The photos are on the table, take them yourself."
Lynn glanced at the bedside table.
She found that photo last night; a younger Ivy was standing next to Howard, with the deck of a yacht in the background.
He picked it up, folded it, and stuffed it into his inner bag.
"Where are the ledgers?"
He asked.
"In the mailbox,"
Ivy didn't look up.
"Three accounts, six months, payments made on the 15th of each month. As punctual as a menstrual cycle."
"The metaphor is very vivid."
"I am a woman,"
Ivy said,
"Women's metaphors are all vivid."
Lynn leaned down and kissed the back of her neck, her skin still damp from the night before:
"I'm leaving. I might not come back tonight."
"If you're not coming, call me."
Ivy said,
"I don't charge for phone calls."
The door closed with a click.
Ivy opened her eyes, staring at the morning light, her fingers slowly clenching and unclenching on the sheets.
Stark Tower, Lynn's office.
Just after ten o'clock, Wanda pushed open the door and came in, carrying a coffee cup with a plain white sleeve that had nothing painted on it.
She saw the photo on the table.
Ivy's face peeked out from the edge of the folder, her smile radiant, like a flower in full bloom.
Wanda paused for a moment, but only placed the coffee on the corner of the table, making a very soft tap at the bottom of the cup, before turning to leave.
"The people in the photo,"
Lynn looked up from the document.
"Also a creditor."
Wanda stopped at the door, her hand resting on the doorknob, the cool metal seeping into her palm:
"You owe a lot of people?"
"The more you owe,"
Lynn flipped the photo over and placed it face down on the table.
"The more you live, the more you get out."
Wanda looked back at him.
The morning light filtered through the blinds, cutting streaks of light and shadow across his face.
She suddenly walked back, took a gold marker out of her pocket, leaned over the table, and drew a butterfly on the cup sleeve.
Its wings were spread wide, the lines were thicker than before, and the color was brighter, as if it was about to fly out.
"Painted in red before,"
Lynn said.
"The red is too dark,"
Wanda straightened up and pushed the cup towards him.
"Gold is eye-catching. You can easily see it."
She turned and left, closing the door behind her, her voice slightly louder than usual.
Lynn picked up her coffee; the butterfly on the cup sleeve gleamed faintly with a metallic sheen in the morning light.
He took a sip; it was bitter, but the aftertaste was long-lasting.
Three o'clock in the afternoon, over the Hudson River.
Rhodes, wearing the unfinished War Machine armor, drew a crooked figure eight in the clouds.
The thruster exhaust flames scorched two marks on the White Cloud, and the fuselage tilted, like a drunken dragonfly.
"Pull him up! Pull him up!"
Tony's voice boomed across the channel.
"Your right engine power is 12 percent lower than normal, don't go into the river!"
"I'm pooping!"
Rhodes roared back, his armored arms flailing wildly, splashing water that had already landed on his face mask.
"This thing won't obey me!"
"It listens to the data, not prayers!"
Tony ranted for fifteen minutes, his vocabulary ranging from mechanical engineering to the Rhodes family genealogy.
"Your dad was more talented at driving a tractor than you were back in the day!"
Rhodes finally straightened its fuselage three meters fromthe water surface, the thrusters roared, and the mud was swirled into a gray tornado by the airflow.
He hovered there, panting as if he had just finished a marathon:
"...Landing. I need to land."
"Airport runway, don't come back here!"
Tony said,
"I have a heart condition."
Channel cut off.
Lynn stood on the rooftop of Stark Tower, watching Rhodes fly erratically toward the airport.
The wind was strong, making his coat flap loudly.
Hill's voice cut in through the headphones, sounding tighter than usual:
"The test flight just now was recorded."
"By whom?"
"Unknown radar station,"
Hill said, "The frequency does not belong to any knownmilitary or civil aviation system."
coordinate..."
She paused.
"The Himalayas, south slope, at an altitude of over 8,000 meters. The location of your door overlaps by 97 percent."
Lynn didn't say anything.
He looked in the direction Rhodes had disappeared and tapped his fingers twice on the railing.
"They're watching,"
Hill said,
"Look at Tony's new toy."
"Not looking at toys,"
Lynn said,
"It's about seeing how many locks the key can open."
He turned and walked downstairs, the image of the golden butterfly Wanda had drawn flashing through his mind, its wings spread wide as if it were about to fly into some light.
Chapter 76 One Week
Tony took off his helmet, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.
Jarvis's core code was scrolling down the screen in front of him like a waterfall.
"I'll give you hands."
Tony said he tapped twice on the virtual keyboard.
"It's not a robotic arm, it's judgment. It's self-driving, but not the kind of idiot that can only look at traffic lights."
I want you to learn to swear, to learn to swear before you crash your car.
"Sir, I currently have no vocal cords."
Jarvis's voice drifted from the speakers, flat as a sheet of glass.
"Then learn to curse in your heart first."
Tony bit open an energy bar.
"One week. Give me a week. You drive, and I'll teach you how not to drive the car into the river."
Rhodes' War Machine system also needs to be reinstated; we can't let him draw the Eight Characters anymore.
Lynn leaned against the door frame, turning the car key:
Is a week enough?
"Enough for upgrading, but not enough for prenatal education."
Tony didn't turn around.
"Is there something you need?"
"fine,"
Lynn said,
"I just wanted to make sure you're not traveling this week. Someone needs to be there to keep things under control in the building."
I'm not going anywhere.
Tony waved his hand.
"Don't go too far. The coffee machine in the lab won't be working during the Jarvis upgrade; it'll probably break down."
Lynn sat in her office for ten minutes when her phone screen lit up.
Natasha's text message was concise, containing only a set of coordinates and a thermal image. Against a deep blue background, an orange-red outline curled up underground, its shape unlike a human, resembling some kind of enormous, dormant embryo.
Postscript:
"There might still be things left uncleaned from the place you brought back."
Lynn stared at the picture for a long time, her thumb hovering over the screen, without replying immediately.
He opened the drawer, took out the spare pistol Natashahad given him, and then pushed it back. Then he dialed the phone.
"I saw it."
He said.
"Are you going?"
Natasha's voice was crisp.
"After a while,"
Lynn said,
"One week later."
"Wait for what?"
"Once Jarvis learns to drive,"
Lynn said,
"Let me sort things out here first."
There was a two-second pause on the other end of the phone.
Natasha smiled slightly:
" Wanda?"
"Um."
"You do know how to distinguish between what's important and what's not."
Natasha said,
"The creatures in the mine are hibernating; the temperature curve is very stable, and they won't wake up in the short term."
A week is fine, but don't exceed two weeks. People who are hibernating are usually irritable when disturbed.
"I know,"
Lynn said,
"Keep an eye on it for me. Let me know if there are any changes."
"Staring is fine."
Natasha said,
"But next time you take someone out to build a relationship, remember to lock the door."
Hill passed by your office yesterday and saw the photo on your desk; he didn't look too good.
Which one?
"Each one."
Lynn hung up the phone, turned it over, and placed it face down on the table.
When Wanda pushed open the door, she was carrying two paper cups.
Her cup was black tea, while Lynn's was black coffee. The cup sleeve had a tiny golden butterfly painted on it, its wings not open, as if it were dozing off.
Tony said you were in the office.
She placed the coffee on the corner of the table.
"He asked me to ask you what you'd like for dinner. Pepperisn't here, so he's going to order takeout."
"And you?"
Lynn asked,
What would you like to eat?
Wanda paused for a moment, tracing the rim of the teacup with her fingers:
"I... am fine with anything."
"Let's eat out then."
Lynn closed the file.
"Let's not order takeout. I'll take you out to eat."
Wanda's finger stopped.
She looked up at him, her eyelashes casting a faint shadowbeneath her eyelids.
Is Pietro going too?
Ask him.
Lynn said,
"But if he goes, he'll have to pay for it himself. I'm only treating you."
Wanda's ears turned red, but she didn't lower her head. She took a sip of black tea, the scalding heat making her tongue numb.
Why only invite me?
"Because you drew butterflies on the cup sleeve,"
Lynn said, "It's beautifully drawn. Worth a meal."
"Then draw two next time."
Wanda said, a slight smile curving her lips.
Is it worth two meals?
"Worth a whole week,"
Lynn stood up and grabbed her coat.
"Let's go. Ask your brother first, then we'll go eat at thatSokovia restaurant. Pepper found it, and he says it's authentic."
Wanda didn't move.
She stood there, watching him drape his coat over his arm, and suddenly said:
" Lynn."
"Um?"
"That photo on your desk,"
Her voice was soft, but very clear.
"Golden hair. Who is she?"
Lynn put on her coat and buttoned it up one button at a time:
"A friend. She owes me a lot, and I owe her a lot too."
"Are you the same as me?"
"no the same,"
Lynn said,
"She owes old debts, you owe new ones. The new debts must be paid first."
Wanda looked at him, her pupils deep in the afternoon light.
She didn't ask any more questions, but simply put down her teacup, the bottom of which tapped softly on the table.
"I'll call Pietro. But I'll tell him you're paying, and he'll split the bill."
"good,"
Lynn said.
Wanda opened the door and glanced back at him before leaving.
Sunlight streamed in from behind her, giving her silhouette a frayed look.
She smiled, this time without pursing her lips, revealing her teeth, which were very white.
"Then I'll order the most expensive one."
She said,
"Make the debt bigger."
The door closed.
Lynn stood there, his fingers slipping into his pocket and touching the photo of Ivy. He took it out, didn't look at it, and stuffed it into the deepest part of the drawer, where it lay next to his spare pistol.
Chapter 77 Eating
6:20 PM, 27th floor of Stark Tower.
Lynn pushed the last document away, the pen tip leaving a dot of ink on the corner of the paper.
It was already dark outside the window, and neon lights leaked in through the gaps in the blinds, cutting a purplish-red line across the tabletop.
Wanda pushed open the door and came in, carrying two coats.
One was her navy blue trench coat, and the other wasLynn's dark gray jacket with frayed cuffs.
Pietro was waiting in the underground parking garage. He said if he was any later he would miss the opening of the electric figure show.
"Shouldn't we eat first?"
Lynn took the jacket, put the sleeves on, and paused when her knuckles touched the cuffs.
"He said that eating and watching TV figures could be done together,"
Wanda draped her trench coat over her arm and curled her lip in a slight smirk.
"He just wanted to hitch a ride with you. He broke the treadmill during afternoon training, and Happy deducted his Zero allowance for the week."
Lynn tossed the car keys into the air; the metal flipped in mid-air, and he caught them.
"Let's go. Let's feed him first, then figure out how to get rid of him."
Wanda smiled lightly, like a feather falling to the ground.
6:50, downtown Manhattan.
The traffic flowed into a slow-moving metallic river at the intersection, their taillights forming a dark red mass.
Lynn held the steering wheel with one hand and rested the other on the window sill, her fingertips tapping lightly to the jazz music playing on the radio, the drumbeats breaking into rhythms under her fingertips.
Wanda sat in the passenger seat, a box of cherry pies packed for Irina on her lap.
Pietro was asleep in the back seat, his head resting against the window. The afternoon's speed training had been too intense; his stamina bar was much shorter than his endurance bar, and he was out of commission within two minutes of getting in the car.
Lynn looked ahead, but her mind was on a completely different track.
system.
The template system embedded deep within his consciousness had been silent for a long time.
After upgrading from Wheel King and Ancient Oneprovided storage space, no new options popped up.
He vaguely sensed that triggering the next template required some kind of "opportunity," but what that opportunity was, there was no instruction manual, nor a progress bar.
It's like an old-fashioned slot machine; once you insert a coin, you can only wait for the symbols to stop on their own.
Thanos.
The name was like a cold stone, pressing down on the deepest part of his memory.
According to the original timeline, the snap will fall in about ten years, half of Universe will turn to ashes, Wandawill be holding Vision's body in the ruins, and Pietro will be riddled with bullets on the streets of Sokovia.
But now everything has changed.
Wanda and Pietro did not experience the bombing, did not enter Strucker's lab with hatred, and did not becomeUltron's pawns.
The scepter is in his hand; the Mind Stone has not been used to create the Vision, at least not yet.
The butterfly effect.
His flapping wings have already stirred up a hurricane; the future script can no longer be followed verbatim.
Will Thanos act ahead of time? Will the collection route forthe Infinity Stones change? He wasn't even sure where the purple Power Stone was now—was it still on Xandar, or had it already been moved by someone?
He had no answer.
The only certainty is that I must accumulate enough leverage before then.
"what's on your mind?"
Wanda suddenly asked.
She didn't turn her head, but her eyes kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, like a radar locking onto a target.
"Think about the bill,"
Lynn said the sound was made very relaxed by the bass lines of jazz.
"The debt is too high; we need to calculate the interest."
"You always say that,"
Wanda straightened the chair, her spine pressed against the backrest.
"But you're not short of money. Tony said your account balance could buy half of Queens, not including fixed assets."
"It's not about the money,"
Lynn turned the steering wheel, and the car slid into a narrow street. The tires went over speed bumps with a dull thud.
"It's a different kind of debt. It's troublesome to repay, and the interest is high."
Wanda didn't ask any further questions.
She looked out the window and tapped her fingers on the lid of the cherry pie box:
"No matter what you owe, pay it back slowly. I'll help you calculate it; I'm good at math."
Pietro grumbled in the back seat, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
At 7:15, the restaurant, called "Old Fire," was tucked away at the end of a narrower street. Its sign was a rusty piece of sheet metal with Cyrillic letters painted in red. The owner was a Sokovia immigrant who supposedly knew Irina's cousin from her younger days.
The three were led to a booth further inside.
The wooden table was thick, and its surface was covered with knife marks, like some kind of ancient map.
Pietro was awakened by the aroma of stewed meat. He rubbed his eyes, grabbed the menu, and his fingers scribbled rapidly across the paper.
"Stewed meat. Potato dumplings. Borscht. And this, sauerkraut with sausage. And a side of pickled mushrooms."
"Can you finish it?"
Wanda frowned and pulled the menu closer to herself with her fingertips.
"I can finish it,"
Pietro closed the menu with a snap, the pages making a sound.
"I ran 400 laps this afternoon, which was very tiring."
Lynn only ordered a roasted lamb chop and a cup of black coffee.
Wanda ordered borscht and bread, then pushed the menu back to the waiter and said:
"Add another cherry pie. To go, my mom loves it."
The food was served very quickly.
The stewed meat was served in a rough earthenware bowl, the broth so thick it clung to the spoon, with a layer of glistening oil floating on the surface.
Pietro stopped after the first bite, the spoon hovering in mid-air, not moving again, his eyes suddenly vacant.
"What's wrong?"
Wanda asked. Her borscht had just reached her lips.
"...It's so similar,"
Pietro spoke softly, his voice seeming to come from a great distance.
"My mom used to make this on weekends, and it tasted just like this. She put in the same amount of spices, but she always complained that I ate too fast and that the soup would burn my tongue."
Wanda paused for a moment, then reached out, scooped a spoonful of bright red broth from her bowl, blew on it, and put it in her mouth.
She chewed slowly, her eyes a little red, but she didn't look down; she simply scooped up another spoonful and put it on Lynn's plate.
"Try it. It's authentic."
Lynn ate it.
The meat was stewed until tender and mushy, with a strong spice flavor, a hint of spiciness and a slightly bitter, herbal taste. It was definitely better than the standardized, mass-produced stuff at Stark Tower's cafeteria.
"tasty,"
He said,
"Bring Irina next time. She probably wants to try the food made by people from her hometown; it tastes more accurate than she remembers."
Wanda nodded, her fingertips tracing circles on the checkered pattern of the tablecloth:
"She definitely likes it. She always says that everything in New York is great, except the food is too sweet, so sweet that it makes you feel spineless."
Pietro regained its speed, the spoon scraping the bowl with a clinking sound.
When he was eating his third bowl, Wanda suddenly put down his fork and said:
" Pietro, go back first after you've finished eating."
"ah?"
Pietro looked up, soup still dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"Go back where?"
"Back to Long Island,"
Wanda said,
"Or go back to the building. Didn't you say you were going to fix Mom's broken radio? She was saying yesterday that she felt empty because she couldn't listen to the morning news."
"That radio can be repaired tomorrow…" Pietro muttered, scooping up another spoonful.
"Fix it tonight,"
Wanda looked at him, her voice flat, but her eyes held an undeniable light.
"Tomorrow is Saturday, and she wants to watch the morning news. You promised, and you promised on Wednesday."
Pietro opened his mouth, looked at Wanda, then at Lynn. His gaze shifted from confusion to wariness, like an animal whose food had been stolen, finally settling into a resigned compromise. He grabbed a tissue to wipe his mouth, stood up, and the chair legs scraped loudly on the floor.
"...Okay. I'll go back and fix it. But don't stay out too late, get home before 11 pm."
"It won't be too late,"
Wanda said.
Pietro glanced at Lynn again, his gaze not threatening, but a reminder or a plea.
Then he turned and left, his footsteps gradually fading in the corridor, and a gust of cold wind blew in when the back door was pushed open.
Wanda waited until the door was completely closed before turning back to look at Lynn.
Her ears were slightly red, but she sat very upright, as if reciting a text in class.
"There's a new movie out there. It's a French film about a female painter called Serafina. I want to see it. Pietrodoesn't like this kind of thing; he only watches explosions and racing movies."
"So you got rid of him,"
Lynn put the coffee cup down, and the bottom of the cup hit the saucer with a crisp sound.
"right,"
Wanda said, a slight smile playing on her lips, her eyelashes casting a faint shadow under the light.
"So I sent him away. Are you okay with that?"
Lynn looked at her but didn't answer immediately. He raised his hand to call the waiter for the bill, pulled out a few bills from his wallet, and placed them under his coffee cup.
"Let's go. Where's the School of Electrical Engineering?"
"Chelsea," Wanda stood up, clutching the cherry pie box, "not far. Fifteen minutes by car."
At 8:25 a.m., at an independent figure house in the Chelsea district.
The hall was small, with only thirty seats. The velvet chairs were old, the springs were a bit loose, and they made a sighing sound when you sat down.
Wanda, holding a small bucket of popcorn, sat to Lynn'sright. There was no armrest between them, and their arms occasionally touched, the fabric rubbing together and making a soft rustling sound.
The film is in black and white, with a slow pace. The female protagonist is mixing paints in her studio, stroke by stroke, as time solidifies into thick oil paint on the canvas.
Wanda watched intently, occasionally reaching out to grab some popcorn. Her fingertips brushed against Lynn's hand, and she recoiled as if burned, only to casually reach out again a moment later.
Lynn didn't move.
He looked at the screen, but his attention was elsewhere. The system. Thanos. The road ahead.
These thoughts, like background noise, floated and sank in the steel Jean soundtrack of the electric figure.
If the plot has gone astray, then his development path must also be adjusted accordingly.
Power Stone, Space Stone, Time Stone
Are people already collecting these items that were originally supposed to appear in a few years?
He couldn't gamble; he could only squeeze every last drop out of every template in front of him while hoarding every chip he could.
Wanda suddenly leaned closer, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the speakers:
"You're daydreaming. This is the third time."
"No,"
Lynn said.
"have,"
Wanda said,
"Your breathing has changed; it's become longer. The electric figure doesn't look good?"
"nice,"
Lynn turned to look at her; the light from the screen cast soft shadows on her face, as if someone were painting a figure on her with a brush.
"I'm just wondering what it will be like in ten years."
Wanda paused in her chewing motion, popcorn still in her mouth, like a squirrel hoarding food.
Then she swallowed and said:
"Ten years from now, I should be painting. Not just dabbling, but real painting. Oil paintings. In Paris, or on the beach in Long Island. Pietro will be running nearby, and when he gets tired, he'll lie down next to my canvas and sleep, snoring."
"And what about me?"
Lynn asked. He asked so naturally, as if following the flow of her words.
Wanda turned to look at him; her pupils shone brightly in the darkness, like two pebbles immersed in water.
She remained silent for a long time, long enough for the female painter in the electric figure to finish the last stroke, long enough for the steel Jean soundtrack to become both passionate and sorrowful.
"you?"
She said it in a voice as soft as a sigh, but every word was clear.
"You will still be alive. You owe so much debt, and the King of Hell won't take you until you pay it all off. And… you have to watch me finish the painting. I promised to paint a portrait of you, but I haven't even started yet."
Lynn laughed out loud, but only briefly, so as not to disturb the two audience members in front of her who were dozing off.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair that was hanging by her cheek behind her ear. His fingertips brushed against her earlobe, paused for a second, and the hair was very hot.
"Whether or not demons are accepted, I don't know,"
He said,
"But I will pay it back. One payment at a time. With interest."
Wanda didn't hide.
She looked at him, the popcorn bucket on her lap, forgotten, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her trench coat.
The movie ended at 10:20. The two walked out; the street was quiet, and the streetlights cast dim yellow circles on the ground, like pieces of melted butter.
Wanda, wrapped in a trench coat, walked beside Lynn, her shoulder occasionally brushing against his arm, and through the two layers of fabric, she could feel the outline of his bones.
"Take me back?"
She asked, her voice slightly muffled by the night breeze.
"Um,"
Lynn said,
Long Island, or the building?
Long Island,
Wanda said,
"Mom left the door open. And… Pietro is definitely pretending to be asleep on the living room sofa, waiting for me to interrogate him when I get back."
Lynn went to get the car.
As the car door opened, Wanda suddenly grabbed his sleeve, the fabric crumpling between her fingers:
" Lynn ".
"Um?"
"next week,"
She said,
"You said you were going out. To a faraway place, to deal with those... things that weren't properly cleaned up."
" Sokovia border,"
Lynn said,
"A mine. Something's hibernating there, we need to go check it out."
"take me,"
Wanda said her voice was very soft, but carried steadily by the night breeze.
"I can help. My Red Mist can sense a lot of things. And… that's my hometown. I should be there."
Lynn looked at her.
The night wind blew, making her hair fly wildly, like a burning fire. He remembered the thermal image Natashahad sent, the orange-red outline sleeping underground, its edges beginning to turn white.
"consider,"
He said.
"Don't think about it for too long,"
Wanda got into the car, fastened her seatbelt with a crisp click.
"I thought about it for too long, so I just bought the plane ticket myself. Anyway, I have a salary now."
Lynn closed the car door and went around to the driver's seat. The engine started, and the jazz music began again, at a low volume, as if it were coming from a very far place.
The car glided into the night, heading towards Long Island.Wanda, clutching the box of cherry pies, looked out the window with a slight smile.
Chapter 78 Creditor
On the Long Island Expressway, the streetlights look like a string of egg yolks, with one rolling into the car window every thirty meters.
The jazz music was still playing, the volume turned down to the lowest setting, and the saxophone's trailing notes sounded like someone sighing in your ear.
Wanda held the cherry pie box, her knees close together.
She tilted her head, her gaze falling on Lynn's face.
It wasn't about looking, it was about sketching, from the brow bone to the bridge of the nose, and then to the very light bluish stubble on the chin.
The car glided at a steady speed, the tires making a regular clicking sound as they rolled over the road seams, like a metronome.
She suddenly leaned over.
When their lips touched, Lynn's breath hitched for a second.
Wanda didn't close her eyes; her eyelashes brushed against his cheek like butterfly feet. Her lips were hot, carrying the creamy taste of the popcorn and a hint of cherry pie sweetness. The kiss came without warning, like a sudden downpour striking the parched ground.
Lynn steered with one hand, the tires screeching against the curb.
He slammed on the brakes, and the car stopped in the emergency lane, its taillights glowing as two crimson hues in the night.
He unbuckled his seatbelt with a click.
His right hand slipped behind Wanda's neck, his knuckles running through her hair, and he pulled her closer. The kiss was much deeper than before, like two ocean currents colliding head-on in a narrow strait. Wanda's back pressed against the car door, the box slipped from her knees, and the cherry pie rolled under the floor mat.
She didn't care; her fingers gripped the front of his shirt, the fabric crumpling in her palm.
The car windows gradually became fogged up, separating the inside from the outside into two seasons.
Wanda was breathing heavily, her lips swollen and red, like crushed berries.
Her forehead rested against his shoulder, her voice muffled and trembling as it came through the fabric:
"...I'm not going to Long Island."
Where to?
Lynn's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper polishing wood.
"hotel,"
Wanda looked up, her pupils burning brightly in the darkness.
"The nearest one. Any one will do."
Lynn looked at her, rubbed her thumb twice on the skin of the back of her neck, and then let go.
He shifted gears, stepped on the gas, the engine roared, and the car shot back onto the main road like an arrow.
The woman at the hotel reception yawned, handed over the room key, glanced between Lynn and Wanda, and didn't ask any further questions.
There were only the two of them in the elevator. The mirrored wall reflected two blurry figures, shoulder to shoulder, their breathing heavy.
The door closed behind me with a click.
Wanda took off her trench coat and tossed it onto the back of the chair. The knitwear underneath clung to her waist, outlining a tight curve.
She didn't turn on the main light, only leaving the bedside reading lamp on, its light dim and yellow, like melted beeswax.
Lynn walked over.
Wanda came up to him, her fingers hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt. The third button was off-target, and her fingernail scraped his collarbone, leaving a white mark.
Lynn took her wrist and pressed her hand against her heart, letting her feel the rhythm of its beating.
"Slower,"
He said.
"It won't be slow,"
Wanda said her voice sounded like it was being squeezed out from deep in her throat.
"I've waited long enough. From Sokovia until now, every day feels like a countdown."
Lynn didn't say anything more.
He lowered his head and kissed her, sliding from her lips to her earlobe, and then to the faint vein on the side of her neck.
Wanda tilted her head back, ran her fingers through his hair, her knuckles white.
The cardigan was rolled up, exposing the skin to the cool air, which aroused a layer of tiny goosebumps.
She casually slapped the light off.
The room sank into darkness, with only a sliver of neon light leaking through the curtains, cutting a narrow purplish-red line across the floor.
They collapsed onto the bed.
The mattress groaned dully as the springs compressed to their limit.
Wanda was like a ball of burning cotton, radiating heat from the inside out. Lynn's arms supported her on either side, forming a narrow cage, and her body heat transmitted through the two layers of fabric, like charcoal burning in the dark.
"What's wrong?"
Wanda asked in the darkness, his breath brushing against his chin.
"Not now,"
Lynn said in a very low voice, as if it were vibrating from deep within her chest.
"At least not in a place like this. Your first time shouldn't be in a hotel."
Wanda paused for a moment. Then she smiled, a soft smile tinged with helplessness and stubbornness:
"Where is it? A castle? A church? Or will we have to wait ten years?"
"When I can give you a real door,"
Lynn said,
"It's not a room key, it's a key."
Wanda looked at him, her pupils shining brightly in the darkness.
She didn't loosen her belt anymore, but instead reached out and hugged his waist, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder, her nose touching his collarbone, her breathing slow and gentle.
"...Then don't leave tonight. Just hold me like this. I'm not greedy."
Lynn didn't say anything, but simply turned over and pulled her into his arms.
Her back pressed against his chest, like two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces. The blanket was pulled up, covering their shoulders, forming a small, warm cocoon.
The phone on the bedside table suddenly rang.
The sharp ringing of the bell shattered the silence of the room.
Wanda suddenly opened her eyes.
Lynn didn't stop, she just grabbed the phone, glanced at the screen, and held it to her ear:
"Your brother."
Wanda took it, her fingers still trembling slightly.
She pressed the answer button, held the phone to her ear, and had to bite her lip to calm her breathing.
"...Hello?"
"sister?"
Pietro's voice boomed from the receiver, with background television static.
"It's already midnight! Where are you? Mom is waiting for you in the living room, she said she'd heat up some soup for you!"
Wanda's throat bobbed.
Lynn's lips pressed lightly against the back of her neck, yet their presence was intense, like a warm leaf falling on her skin.
She reached out to push him, but couldn't budge him. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and pressed her against the pillow.
"...I,"
Wanda's voice was like bubbles rising from water, with a tremolo.
"I'm not going back. Tonight."
"Not going back? Where are you? With whom?" Pietro's voice rose.
Is it related to that?
" Pietro,"
Wanda interrupted him, her voice suddenly deepening, as if a calmness had been pulled from some deep place.
"Go to sleep. Go to sleep early. Don't worry about me."
How could I not care?
"I'm twenty years old,"
Wanda said, her eyes fixed on the sliver of light peeking through the curtains, Lynn's breath hot against her neck.
"I know what I'm doing. Go to sleep. See you tomorrow."
She hung up the phone, turned it off, and threw it onto the carpet with a thud.
The room fell silent again, with only the breathing of the two people remaining, like two beasts that had just come ashore.
Wanda turned to face Lynn. His expression was obscured in the darkness, but he could feel her eyelashes trembling as they brushed against his cheek.
"...he will kill you,"
Wanda said her voice was as hoarse as a broken bellows.
"Make him wait in line,"
Lynn said,
Too many people want to kill me.
Wanda smiled slightly.
She snuggled closer to him, draping her legs over his calves, her toes icy cold.
"...Then I'll protect you. With Red Mist. Anyone who dares to touch you, I'll tear them to pieces."
"good,"
Lynn said,
"You're hired. Your salary will be paid in coffee."
Wanda didn't say anything, but reached out and hugged his waist, gently touching the white mark on his back where his fingernails had scratched him, as if apologizing for the wound, or as if stamping a confirmation.
Outside the window, towards Long Island, the horizon was tinged with a faint, fish-belly white. Dawn was approaching.
Chapter 79 Good Morning
At 5:07 a.m., the light filtering through the curtains was still a bluish-gray, like undercooked soy milk.
Wanda opened her eyes and found herself curled up in a warm hollow. Lynn's arm was across her waist, and her breathing was heavy like an old bellows, one breath after another.
She didn't move immediately, but counted his breaths. On the seventh count, she gently lifted his hand and tucked it under the covers to take her place.
She landed barefoot, and the carpet absorbed all the sound.
Her knitted sweater was completely wrinkled. She hastily straightened it in front of the full-length mirror, tucked her messy hair behind her ear, revealing a faint red mark on the side of her neck.
It was from his stubble last night. She stared at the mark for two seconds, her lips curving into a smile, before picking up her trench coat from the ground and wrapping it around herself.
When she reached the bedside, she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
The lips touched, lingered for only half a second, like a snowflake falling on warm skin, lifted before it could melt.
Lynn didn't wake up; her eyelashes fluttered, and her breathing remained steady. Wanda picked up her phone, which had fallen onto the carpet. The screen was cracked, but it didn't ring to hail a taxi.
She opened the door, glanced back one last time, and then gently closed it with a click, as soft as a sigh.
5:40, Long Island Villa.
It was just getting light, and the bakery across the street hadn't turned on its lights yet.
Wanda turned the key to unlock the door, the sound of the metal turning amplified three times in the silence.
She tiptoed, trying to slip directly up the stairs from the entrance hall.
"sister."
Pietro's voice drifted over from the living room sofa, hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against wood.
Wanda stood frozen in place, her fingers still resting on the stair railing.
Pietro sat on the sofa in the exact same posture as when she left last night, except that the radio was completely disassembled and the Zero parts were scattered all over the coffee table, like some kind of abstract painting.
He clutched the screwdriver in his hand, the metal handle stained with sweat and fingerprints. His eyes were bloodshot, not from crying, but from exhaustion, like two rotten peaches.
"...You didn't sleep all night?"
Wanda asked softly, afraid of waking her parents upstairs.
"She's asleep,"
Pietro said that when he threw the screwdriver on the coffee table, Zero bounced up.
"I slept on the sofa for about twenty minutes. I dreamt that you were running, and something was chasing you, but I couldn't catch up."
Wanda didn't say anything.
She walked over and sat at the other end of the sofa, her knees close together, the hem of her trench coat covering her thighs.
Where's Mom?
"Not up yet,"
Pietro rubbed his eyes, his knuckles clicking.
"But I told her you stayed at Gwen's last night to work on a project. She believed me."
Wanda's fingers twisted the belt of her trench coat:
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me,"
Pietro turned his head and looked at her.
His eyes were fierce, but beneath that fierceness lay emptiness, like a emptied tin can.
"I'll just ask you one question. Is he good to you?"
Wanda nodded.
Without hesitation.
Pietro stared at her for a long time, long enough for the second hand of the clock to go around three times.
Then he threw the screwdriver away completely, the tip hitting the remote control with a sharp clang.
"That's fine. But next time you don't come home at night, at least send a text message. Mom will worry. So will I."
"knew,"
Wanda said, her voice softening.
"I'll send it next time."
"besides,"
Pietro stood up, and Zero's knee slammed into him with a loud thud.
"Next time you lie about staying at Gwen's, rehearse your story with her beforehand. I called this morning and Gwensaid, 'Huh? Wanda isn't here with me.' I covered for you for twenty minutes."
Wanda's ears burned, and she twisted the belt of her trench coat into a pretzel with her fingers:
"...You've become smarter."
"I've always been smart,"
Pietro walked towards the kitchen; his figure was very thin, but his shoulders were taut.
"I was just too lazy to care about you before. Now I have to. Go to sleep, upstairs. The soup is in the pot; Mom will heat it up at six."
Wanda stood up, took two steps, and suddenly turned back:
" Pietro ".
"Um?"
"screwdriver,"
Wanda pointed to the coffee table.
"The blade chipped. I'll buy you a new one tomorrow."
Pietro didn't turn around, he just waved his hand:
"Buy two. The radio isn't finished being repaired yet."
Wanda went upstairs, stepping on the very edge to avoid the two steps that would make a noise.
She slipped into her room, closed the door, slid down against the door panel, and sat on the carpet.
Outside the window, the sunlight was changing from bluish-gray to a pale white, like someone gradually adjusting the brightness of a desk lamp.
9:15 AM, 39th floor of Stark Tower.
Lynn pushed open the lab door, and Tony was cursing at three floating screens, the liquid in his coffee cup sloshing around like a lake after an earthquake.
"You've come at the perfect time,"
Tony didn't even look up. " Jarvis is 80% complete, the autonomous driving module just got working, and then at 3:17 last night, someone tried to put a virus in his brain. The source went through seven layers of redirection, and finally landed... guess where?"
" Sokovia,"
Lynn threw her coat on the back of the chair.
"clever,"
Tony snapped his fingers, and the code on the screen scrolled down like a waterfall.
"The methods are old-fashioned, like those old Pierce crew. But how did they know Jarvis was being upgraded? Unless..."
"Unless they've been watching all along,"
Lynn continued, tapping her fingers twice on the table.
" The Rhodes test-flew yesterday, and its figure-eight trajectory was recorded by a radar station in the Himalayas. Someone in the sky is waiting to see our new toy."
Tony finally turned around, his goggles pushed up against his forehead, revealing two deep red marks:
"You found out too?"
" The Jane Report that Hill published this morning,"
Lynn said,
" What about Natasha?"
Tony tossed a tablet to Lynn. Lynn caught it; the screen displayed a thermal image. Against a dark blue background, a reddish-orange outline was curled up on the ground, but its edges were already turning a ghastly white, like the white of a boiled egg being peeled from the yolk.
"Taken six hours ago,"
Tony said, " Natasha's exact words:"
The hibernation period is about to end. Cracks have already appeared; it's only a matter of time before it hatches. It might be tomorrow, it might be next week, it might be…"
"tonight,"
Lynn put the tablet down, the metal base hitting the table.
"I'll go."
Who should I bring?
" Wanda,"
Lynn said,
"Her Red Mist can sense the frequency of bee colonies, and the mine in Sokovia is her territory."
Tony raised an eyebrow:
" Where's Pietro?"
"Stay behind,"
Lynn said,
"Look at his parents. And look at his sister's future."
Zero 3:00 PM, Stark Tower public elevator.
Wanda came in carrying two cups of coffee, each cup adorned with a golden butterfly with its wings spread wide.
She looked up and saw Ivy already standing inside, leaning against the wall of the carriage, wearing a charcoal gray suit and carrying a tablet in her hand.
The door closed.
The elevator went up, and the numbers jumped up and down.
Ivy spoke first, her voice like sandpaper rubbing against wood:
"In his office drawer, there was a photograph. The back read 'Creditor.' He had blond hair and smiled like a fox."
Wanda's fingers tightened on the cup, making a slight dent.
She didn't look down, but stared at the two blurry figuresreflected in the elevator door: "You checked his drawer?"
"No need to check,"
Ivy smiled, but only half of her mouth moved.
"I put it there. I put it there three years ago. Now I want to know, did you put yourself in there too?"
Wanda was silent for two seconds.
As the elevator passed the seventeenth floor, the light flashed across her face.
"I owe him, and he owes me,"
Wanda said that her voice was flat, but she pronounced each word clearly.
"It's impossible to calculate. So let's not calculate it."
Ivy looked at her, her pupils deep in the cold light of the elevator.
Then she changed the angle of the tablet in her hand, took a cup of coffee out of her bag, and handed it to Wanda:
"Let's calculate it slowly. I'll calculate the interest for you using the lowest possible rate. But remember, even the lowest rate is compounded interest, and if it continues for a long time, the principal will become frightening."
Wanda took the coffee.
The three cups of coffee formed a strange triangle in the elevator.
The door opened on the twenty-third floor, and Ivystepped out, her high heels clicking crisply on the marble floor.
She didn't turn around, she just raised her hand:
" It's cold in Sokovia, wear warm clothes. Don't die out there, or the debts will become bad."
Wanda stood in the elevator, watching the doors slowly close.
She looked down at the butterfly on the cup sleeve and deepened the outline of its wings.
4:40 PM, Equipment Room.
Tony pulled a lead-gray metal box, about the size of a palm, from the safe. Its surface was engraved with warning symbols for the reactor.
He opened it, and inside lay a portable reactor, its arc of light flickering at the core, like a tamed miniature heart.
"If that thing in the mine really is Howard's 'manuscript'?"
Tony closed the box and handed it to Lynn.
"This thing can burn it. I'm not saying it's a metaphor, it really burns it. The core temperature is three thousand degrees, and it lasts for ninety seconds. Enough to cook anything."
Lynn took it; the metal felt heavy in her hand.
With a thought, the reactor disappeared from his palm and was stored in his storage space.
Tony raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask where the things went.
" Taught by the Ancient One?"
Tony just asked.
"tuition fee,"
Lynn said.
Wanda walked over from the other end of the corridor, wearing a makeshift stabilizer made by Tony on her left wrist —a black bracelet with a row of small LED lights, all of which were currently green. In her right hand, she carried a small but fully packed backpack.
Six hours,
Tony pointed to the stabilizer.
"Green lights indicate full power, yellow lights are a warning, red lights..."
"I faint at red lights,"
Wanda then slung the backpack over her shoulder.
"I know. I'll keep an eye on the clock."
Pietro followed behind her, his face even paler than in the morning, with dark circles under his eyes.
He walked up to Wanda, not looking at Lynn, but staring at the bracelet:
"Six hours. Not a minute more. Six hours, zero minutes, and I'll buy a plane ticket to Sokovia."
"You have no money,"
Wanda said.
"I'll borrow it,"
Pietro said,
"I'll even borrow money from loan sharks."
Wanda reached out and brushed the stray hairs from his forehead to the side, just like when they were little:
"I'll be back within six hours. I'll bring you authentic pickled mushrooms from Sokovia."
Pietro didn't laugh.
He grabbed her wrist with great force, his knuckles turningwhite, then slowly released her.
"...Don't lie to me. You've never lied to me before."
"I won't lie now,"
Wanda said.
Lynn stood to the side and tossed a spare communicator toPietro:
"Keep an eye on New York for me. If Harry senses any movement from ADAM-0, call me immediately."
Pietro caught it, gripped it tightly in his hand, the metal edge digging into his palm:
"I'll keep an eye on New York, you keep an eye on my sister. If she loses even a single hair..."
"I know,"
Lynn said,
"Another person has joined the line to kill me."
"Not queuing,"
Pietro looked at him, his eyes bright, like two glass beadstempered with fire.
"You're number one."
The door to the equipment room opened.
Natasha stood at the door, dressed casually in black, holding two plane tickets in her hand:
"The car is downstairs. It's a 40-minute drive to the airport; the flight departs at 6:00. Also,"
She looked at Wanda, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Save me a cup of coffee. I've never seen a golden butterfly before."
Wanda handed the cup she was holding over.
Natasha took it, sipped it, and raised an eyebrow:
"Bitter. But with a lingering sweetness. Let's go, creditors, it's time to collect the debts."
Chapter 80 The Mine
Abandoned mines on the Sokovia border.
3:17 a.m. local time.
Lynn's watch still showed New York time, but it was completely dark.
The wind blew in through the gaps in the Balkan Mountains, carrying the astringent smell of sulfur and rust, like a mouthful of blood that had been held for too long.
The mine entrance resembled an empty stomach; the conveyor belt had long since rusted away, like a dead snake coiled on the slope.
Natasha led the way, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness, dust floating and sinking in the light.
She stopped in front of a collapsed wellhead, and kicked a loose cover with her toe, the metal making a hollow echo.
"There's wind down there. It's not a dead end."
Wanda stood beside Lynn, the stabilizer LED on her left wrist completely green, like a row of frozen fireflies.
She raised her right hand, her fingertips making a loose clench towards the wellhead. Red Mist seeped from under her skin, very thin, like diluted blood, flowing along the ground and seeping into the cracks in the cover.
"It's below,"
Wanda said her voice was very soft, but she enunciated each word clearly.
"Very deep. Not a heartbeat... but a vibration. Like a swarm of bees rubbing their wings, very orderly, very hungry."
"Hungry?"
Lynn asked.
"Hungry,"
Wanda repeated, her pupils glowing a faint crimson in the darkness.
"It's waiting for something to feed it. Or... waiting for something to come back."
Natasha threw the rope into the well opening; the metal buckle struck the pipe wall, and the sound rolled a long way down before stopping.
"I'll go first. Lynn will cover the rear. Wanda, stay in the middle, don't look down."
"I can get down by myself,"
Wanda said.
"I know you,"
Natasha had already begun his descent; his gloves rustled against the ropes.
"But Lynn wants to protect you, let him protect you. Men sometimes need that."
Wanda didn't argue anymore.
Lynn walked behind her, his hand lightly resting on her lower back, feeling her warmth even through her coat:
"Step on my footing. Once I've secured my footing, then you can step on it."
"Wordy,"
Wanda said, but the corners of her mouth curved into a smile.
The shaft was very deep. Natasha's descent light below shimmered as a tiny white dot.
Lynn had no rope, so he dug his fingers into the cracks in the well wall. The grip strength granted by the serum allowed him to cling to the rough wall like a gecko.
Wanda stepped on the cracks in the bricks he had stepped on, leaning her weight on him, her breath coming in rhythmic gasps on the back of his neck, but getting faster and faster.
How much further?
She asked.
"Ten meters,"
Lynn said,
"There is a platform below."
When they landed, Natasha was already crouching in front of an alloy door with the old SHIELD logo on it, corroded down to just half an eagle's head.
She was picking the lock; the probe had turned halfway around in the keyhole, and with a click, the hissing sound of the released air pressure sounded like some creature sighing.
Behind the door was a water tunnel. The air was thicker and at least five degrees warmer than the ground, carrying a sweet, cloying scent from some kind of fermented organic matter.
Wanda's Red Mist drifted forward automatically, as if being sucked in, and gathered into a thin veil at the end of the tunnel.
"Front,"
Wanda's voice was strained.
"A lot of space."
4:20 a.m.
The tunnel opened up into a bright and spacious area.
It wasn't formed naturally; it was an underground cavity created by directional blasting, and it's as big as two basketball courts.
At the center was a huge, translucent sac-like structure, like a dried-up ovary, its surface covered with dark red vein-like patterns, but it had shriveled up, with only a translucent layer of skin sticking to the metal support, undulating slightly with some invisible rhythm.
"Queen Wreck,"
Natasha approached, his flashlight beam sweeping across the surface of the sac; the patterns seemed to writhe alive in the light.
"He has been dead for many years, but he is still breathing."
Seven or eight metal cabinets were scattered around, their drawers violently pulled open, documents strewn all over the floor. Lynn crouched down and picked up a damp, soft leather journal with the old Stark Industries logo on the cover.
He opened it; Howard's handwriting was very messy, and the ink had bled and blurred.
"Original manuscript retrieval failed. Follow-up action: sealing. Not destruction, but sealing."
ADAM-0's derivative tissues possess memory; destruction stimulates regeneration. Only sealing them, starving them, and putting them to sleep is possible. The key must be left near the lock; otherwise, the door will find the key itself. Remember: the key and the lock are made of the same piece of metal.
Lynn closed the journal and ran her fingers along the cover a couple of times.
Wanda stood beside him, looking down at the line of text:
"The key and the lock... are made from the same piece of iron. What does that mean?"
"It means I am both the one opening the door and the one closing it,"
Lynn said in a flat voice, "The old man molded me into a two-way person."
Wanda didn't speak. She took two steps forward, closer to the sac.
Red Mist flowed from her fingertips, much thicker than before, like iron filings drawn to a magnet, drifting straight toward the center of the sac.
" Wanda,"
Lynn shouted,
"Don't get too close."
But she couldn't stop.
The moment Red Mist made contact with the sac, her pupils constricted to pinpoints before dilating completely, turning into a crimson mist. She froze on the spot, her fingers outstretched as if suspended by invisible threads.
4:37 a.m.
The illusion exploded in Wanda's mind.
She stood in a large, white room with ceramic walls and cold, figure- less lights, like those on an operating table.
A man stood with his back to her, wearing a white coat and broad shoulders. He held a baby in his arms and was gently rocking it. The baby's cries were soft, like a cat's meow.
"This is the key,"
The man spoke to the void, his voice strikingly similar toLynn's, but deeper, with a metallic, weary hoarseness.
"It's also a lock. Without a key, a door is just a wall. Without a lock, a key is just scrap metal."
The man slowly turned around.
His face was blurred, like a pencil sketch blurred by water, but his eyes were clear.
His pupils were golden, vertical, like those of some kind of reptile. The baby in his arms also turned its head, its pupils also golden, but smaller and rounder, like two freshly molten gold beads.
Wanda wanted to back away, but her legs wouldn't move.
She looked down and found that her hand had turned intoRed Mist, with countless tiny points of light moving in the mist, like imprisoned stars.
"You've come,"
The man spoke to her, a slight smile curving his lips across his blurred face.
"You came in his place. Very good. You should pay the interest on his debts first."
The baby suddenly smiled, without making a sound, but his mouth opened wide, revealing his pink gums.
The illusion shattered.
Wanda's knees buckled, and she fell forward.
Lynn rushed up from behind, his arm slipping under her armpits, pulling her back into his arms. Her back slammed into his chest with a dull thud.
The stabilizer emitted a sharp beeping sound, and the LED light switched from green to yellow, flashing like a dying breathing light.
" Wanda,"
Lynn slapped her cheek, not hard, but quickly.
"Come back. Count my voice."
She opened her eyes, and the red in her pupils slowly receded like the tide going out.
She stared at Lynn's face for a long time, her gaze slowly focusing, then she raised her hand and touched his chin with her fingertips:
"...I saw you. No, it was someone who looked like you. Holding a child. Golden eyes."
Lynn grasped her fingers and pressed her fingertips against the back of her hand:
"I am here. It's not an illusion."
He said…
Wanda took a breath, her voice still weak.
"A key is also a lock. And you said... I came for you. For you... to pay the interest."
Natasha walked over from the other side of the capsule, holding something in her hand, her complexion even morepale than before.
"You need to take a look at this."
She opened her palm.
A metal chip, about the size of a fingernail, lay in the palm of my hand, embedded in a small alloy plate, its surface engraved with a fine serial number.
Natasha read it aloud into the flashlight:
"STARK-ADAM-007".
Lynn took out the portable reactor Tony had given him from his storage space, turned it over, and saw the same prefix engraved on the bottom, followed by "007-A". He placed the chip and the reactor side by side, the metal gleaming with the same matte finish under the cold light.
"match,"
Natasha said in a very soft voice.
" Howard left you a matching item. He knew you would bring this, and he also knew you would find the other one here."
Lynn looked at the two pieces of metal in her palm, her fingers slowly tightening.
The edge of the chip dug into my palm; it hurt, but I remained alert.
"The old man knew I was coming,"
He said, "He knew he would wake up here. So he left the key and the lock. And I..."
"You are both the key and the lock,"
Wanda took over, her voice still hoarse, but she stood up straight and pressed the flashing yellow light on the stabilizer. The light didn't turn off; it kept flashing.
"This isn't funny. But Lynn, if you want to open the door, I'll help you push it open. If you want to close the door…"
"You'll shield me?"
"I'll burn it for you,"
Wanda says that the Red Mist re-condenses at the fingertips, even more intense than before, like a compressed flame.
"Three thousand degrees, ninety seconds. Let me count for you."
Natasha put the chip into a sealed bag and tucked it inside her belt. She glanced at the sac; the translucent skin was more undulating than before, as if something was turning over beneath it.
"The seal has loosened,"
Natasha said,
" Howard's script is finished, but you're the one who has to read the lines. What do we do now?"
Lynn retracted the reactor into her storage space, then took it out again and held it in her hand.
The arc of light flickered at its core, like a tamed miniature heart. He stared at the shriveled sac, his voice forced out through clenched teeth:
"Reinforce the seal first. If that fails..."
"Just burn it,"
Wanda said she took a step forward, and the Red Mistformed a thin barrier around her, the stabilizer's yellow light casting a warm golden glow on her face.
"Including interest."