I decided to explore the scientific domain that S.H.I.E.L.D. had assigned to me methodically, from left to right. First on the agenda was the Biochemical Laboratory. Thanks to the extensive knowledge from the non-mage information package, I could now navigate these scientific fields much more confidently. I clearly understood what this temple of science was meant for. It was for creating serums, studying viruses, editing genes, and dissecting life itself at the molecular level.
The moment I stepped in, sterility wrapped around me. The air, which was saturated with ozone, hummed softly as it moved in laminar flows. Sensors monitored temperature and humidity with a cold indifference. But that was just the background. My attention was seized by what I had really come for. It was the equipment. No, not quite.
It was the equipment.
I accepted the laminar flow hoods and the Class III hermetic biosafety cabinets, which were designed for work with the most dangerous pathogens, as expected. At this level, that was the baseline. It was standard. But what I saw next made my scientific heart skip a beat.
A cryo-electron microscope stood in the center of the hall.
Without exaggeration, it was the king of the laboratory. It was a titanic apparatus, the size of a small room, that was capable of freezing moments and displaying three-dimensional images of proteins, viruses, and macromolecules in their natural state with atomic resolution. It was an indispensable tool for drug development and for understanding the fundamental processes of life. And now, it was mine, at least temporarily. It was a shame that, so far, I had no idea worthy of this magnificence.
Then, my gaze landed on an automated gene-editing station. It was a robotic complex that was capable of autonomously carrying out thousands of operations according to a specified program. Looking at its cold manipulators, I barely suppressed a shiver of anticipation. It wasn't here for decoration, and one could only imagine how many mutant genomes had already passed through its needles and scanners.
Then, there was more. There were high-throughput DNA and RNA sequencers that were capable of decoding a complex organism's genome in a matter of hours. There were mass spectrometers for ultra-precise analysis of biological mixtures. There was a 3D bioprinter that printed with living cells, building tissue structures and organoids for testing, which eliminated the need to torture live subjects.
And there were mountains more of small and not-so-small equipment, with a total cost that, by the most conservative estimate, reached fifty million dollars, if not all eighty.
And all of it was now at my disposal.
I would have been on cloud nine if not for one "but." I knew that I would be watched twenty-four seven. I would be watched with such a paranoid thoroughness that not even a spy with obsessive-compulsive disorder could dream of it. Still, if, or rather when, S.H.I.E.L.D. gave me something like this for my own complete and undivided use, I would probably die from scientific ecstasy. I was already having insane ideas. For example, I could modify the fatigue pills. Sleep is for the weak. I wouldn't need it anymore.
I was shaken. I left the biochemical paradise, spent the mandatory minute in decontamination again, and headed to the neighboring door, the Mechanical Engineering Laboratory. This was for prototyping, new materials, armor, weapons, drones, and robotics. It was essentially a multifunctional workshop from the future that was ready for small-scale production.
My eyes immediately caught the familiar silhouette of a 5-axis CNC machining center, but this was a far more advanced model than the one in my Blade Base. Comparing them was like comparing a crop duster to a fifth-generation fighter. They both fly, but they aren't in the same league.
The second thing I noticed was an industrial additive manufacturing complex. It was huge and split into two sections. In the first section, rows of metal 3D printers stood ready to print parts from titanium, aluminum, and steel alloys with extreme precision. Each one outclassed the single machine in my old lab. In the second section were polymer printers that were capable of creating high-strength parts from nylon, carbon, and photopolymers.
There was a laser and waterjet cutting station. There was a universal testing rig with hydraulic presses for material strength checks. There was a scanning electron microscope. There was a robotic assembly station. And the cherry on top were several workstations with holographic interfaces. They were advanced CAD/CAM systems that let you design objects as interactive 3D holograms and simulate their behavior in real time.
This lab was more modest than the previous one. It was maybe worth thirty-five to forty million. But did that make it less valuable? Quite the opposite. Since engineering remained one of my key interests, this place promised to become my favorite sandbox.
Again, there was decontamination. Again, there was an airlock. Again, there was a laboratory.
This time, it was the last one. It was the Analytical Chemistry Laboratory. As the name implied, its purpose was analyzing unknown substances, synthesizing new compounds, and, naturally, quality control for products from the other two workshops. But the heart of this place, and maybe of my entire scientific domain, was the nuclear magnetic resonance spectrometer.
It was a monumental and fabulously expensive machine. It was the gold standard for determining the structure of organic molecules. It was an instrument that let you understand, with absolute precision, how atoms connect in the most complex compounds. It was one of the most powerful and expensive analytical tools in the world, period. And now, it was at my disposal.
Beside it stood a chromatography-mass spectrometry complex. It was a battery of machines that were capable of separating the most intricate chemical cocktails into individual components and immediately determining their mass and structure. It was indispensable in toxicology, forensics, and trace substance detection. Nearby were X-ray diffractometers and fluorescent spectrometers for analyzing crystal lattices and precise elemental composition. Infrared and ultraviolet spectrophotometers offered fast identification of functional groups in molecules. Completing the symphony of instruments was an automated chemical synthesis reactor. It was a hermetic system for safely carrying out complex multi-stage reactions while tracking all parameters in real time.
Even without counting the NMR spectrometer, which cost more than everything else in the hall combined, the lab came to around thirty million.
It was very, very nice.
I stood there and surveyed my new kingdom. Then, the obvious question rose.
What was I going to do with all of this?
The answer came immediately. I was going to create.
But there was a catch. I understood perfectly that dozens of S.H.I.E.L.D. analysts were watching my every micro-action. Creating something from my personal arsenal or inventing something truly revolutionary would mean handing the technology over to them on a silver platter. That meant I needed something that would keep me busy, but that would not directly benefit my overseers. Or, more precisely, it would not benefit Hydra, which, at this stage, was practically synonymous with S.H.I.E.L.D.
Fortunately, the solution presented itself. The perfect test subject was already in my inventory.
Back in the biochemical laboratory, I approached the central analytical table. I deliberately ignored half of the biosafety rules, opened my inventory, and Kraven the Hunter's headless body dropped onto the sterile steel with a dull thud.
It was time to figure out what those cheat tattoos were.
I stripped the corpse. I sent the hide clothing and the necklace of exotic fangs, among which I recognized several human teeth with disgust, to a hermetic vacuum container for full decontamination. I didn't need to contaminate this sanctuary. After that, I stepped out of the lab for a couple of minutes and dialed Fury on the move. I didn't care that I wasn't supposed to bother him over trifles. This wasn't a trifle.
"I need a dossier on Kraven." I said without any preamble.
"It's already been loaded into the lab system." Fury replied in his usual unflappable tone, and a series of short beeps followed.
Excellent. That made it easier for me.
Back in the lab, I activated one of the computers and found, exactly as promised, a folder on the desktop that contained a dossier on Sergei Kravinoff. It had his height, his weight, his combat skills, a list of his victims, his suspected bases, which S.H.I.E.L.D. was almost certainly raiding already, and his age.
He was ninety-seven.
So, uncle, you turned out to be nearly a century old.
Good. The picture was getting clearer. It was time to begin the primary analysis.
The goal was simple and twofold. First, I would collect and analyze all of the physical, chemical, and biological data from the body, and I would determine the real source of his superhuman abilities. Second, I would then share part of the conclusions with S.H.I.E.L.D. After all, I had promised to cooperate, and this could serve as payment for this luxurious scientific gift in the form of these laboratories. Let them get the bone while I gnawed on the meat.
Stage 1: Macroscopic Analysis.
First came the biometrics and a general examination. I launched the 3D scanner, and a perfect digital copy of the body slowly appeared on the holographic display. All of the data matched the anthropometrics of a perfectly developed man in peak condition, who was physically aged around twenty-eight to thirty-two. He had perfect muscle definition, elastic skin, flawless joints and internal organs, and not even the slightest signs of aging.
So, where did the ninety-seven in the dossier come from?
Then again, this was Marvel. The Ancient One could be a thousand-year-old woman and still look thirty. In any case, the fact remained. Kraven had either a powerful, constantly active regenerative factor, or another mechanism that was suppressing aging. And I was almost sure that it was directly tied to his power source.
I noted it.
Stage 2: Cellular Analysis.
Now, it was time to go deeper, down to the micro level. I took samples of his muscle, bone, nerve, and connective tissue. Some of them went under the cryo-electron microscope. Others went for telomere analysis. What I saw on the monitors made me grunt approvingly.
Muscles. The myofibril density and the contractile proteins exceeded the levels of an Olympic champion by three times. But the real surprise was an abnormally high concentration of mitochondria with an altered, more efficient structure. This wasn't just an organism. It was a biochemical power plant that was generating explosive levels of ATP.
Bones. This was even more interesting. The bone matrix didn't have the usual spongy structure. It had a micro-lattice architecture that resembled a honeycomb. Inclusions of unidentified metallic trace elements had turned it into a natural composite material, which gave it a phenomenal strength at a relatively low weight.
Telomeres. I did this just to settle the age question. As expected, their length matched that of a healthy person who was around twenty-five to twenty-seven. It was scientific confirmation of not just longevity, but of full biological rejuvenation.
The conclusion was obvious. Kraven's body wasn't merely healthy. It had been optimized at the cellular level for an absolute peak physical performance. His tissues went far beyond a normal human physiology.
And most interesting of all, the source of that optimization wasn't a genetic mutation. A full genome sequencing revealed neither an X-gene nor any traces of artificial editing.
Stage 3: Tattoo Analysis.
Now, for the fun part.
Samples of the tattooed skin went on a real pilgrimage through all three laboratories. Twenty minutes of intensive equipment work later, I had the results. The ink was an extremely complex organometallic polymer. In the dermis, it formed a passive nanostructural lattice that was capable of effectively absorbing and dissipating kinetic, thermal, and sonic energy across the entire surface.
But that alone wasn't enough. Such a system could act as excellent body armor, yes, but it was nowhere near enough to explain the near-total protection that Kraven had displayed while he was alive. The best explanation was some kind of bio-integrated armor system. But the scientific methods hit a wall. The system was inert. In a dead body, it was just dead nano-metal. How it was powered and controlled remained a mystery.
The result of the scientific session was frustrating and predictable at the same time. In front of me lay the body of a ninety-seven-year-old man who, at the cellular level, belonged to a thirty-year-old superhuman who was covered in high-tech polymer armor. But none of his truly superhuman phenomena could be explained by biology or chemistry as I knew them.
Science had hit a wall.
Which meant that it was time to change tools.
I closed my eyes, concentrated, and activated my spiritual vision. It didn't give me much, but I still caught something important. An extremely dense, though fading, spiritual imprint emanated from the body. My knowledge, which was backed by Strange Science, supplied a useful term. It was called Reigai. The density of that Reigai already partly explained his physiology and his longevity. A powerful spirit creates a powerful body. That was one of the missing elements that the equipment couldn't see.
But there was more.
I detected an abnormal behavior in the spiritual particles, the Reishi, around the tattoos. They weren't just present. They were compressed into an incredibly dense structure. It wasn't enough to materialize, but it was enough to provide an additional durability.
Hmm.
Was it possible that he had also been using Reishi as fuel for this armor? Judging by his Reigai, his spiritual pressure, his Reiatsu, had been extremely dense. It had been an order of magnitude stronger than someone like Clint Barton. So, I couldn't rule that out. But it was unlikely to be the primary source. Magic, Chi, psi-energy, the X-gene, cosmic rays, gamma radiation... this universe had every kind of nonsense imaginable. For "Spirit" alone to be the source felt unlikely. Still, to be fair, I wasn't a perfect Marvel expert. Under NZT, memory just becomes much more pliable.
Shaking off the meta-knowledge, I moved to the final stage of the metaphysical analysis. I moved to the Essence. I touched my fingers to the black pattern on the dead skin and concentrated, trying to feel out its fundamental nature.
The response came instantly, and it hit me like a blow.
In my mind, a burst of static exploded in a blinding flash. It wasn't pain. It was a stream of raw, unprocessed data. Along with it came a smell that was imprinted straight into my brain, bypassing the laboratory completely. There was thick blood. There was wet earth after a tropical downpour. There was ozone before a storm. And there was magic. I didn't see it, but I felt it with every cell. It was wild, primordial, and predatory.
I pushed harder, driving my consciousness deeper, and I finally hit the truth.
It was a connection.
The tattoos weren't an autonomous mechanism, as I had first suspected. They were a bridge. And even though one subscriber on this end, Kraven, was dead, I could still feel a fading echo on the other side. It was alien. It was hungry. It was incredibly ancient. And it was definitely not human.
I pulled my hand away and organized what I had just received. The picture that formed was ugly.
Kraven's power was the result of a magical pact.
The tattoos were the physical embodiment of that contract. They were a seal that bound him to a powerful entity. I immediately dubbed the entity, for convenience, the Ancient Wild God, or AWG. And considering that gods in Marvel aren't metaphorical, there was a very real chance that by killing his avatar, I had just made myself a new enemy.
Honestly, though, I didn't care. I would handle problems when they arrived. This one wasn't even on the horizon yet.
At least now, everything fit. Kraven's superhuman physiology and longevity were the result of a synergy. They were the result of his own powerful soul, decades of training, and a passive enhancement from the pact. But his active combat abilities, his invulnerability, his mobility, his super-strength, all of that was the direct result of the contract. The pact used his soul, and possibly the surrounding Reishi, and probably other forms of energy that I couldn't yet sense, as a battery to power a temporary omnipotence.
What did this give me personally?
This was the delicate part. A direct reproduction was impossible. And it was unwise. Entering into pacts like that is a straight road to self-destruction. But studying Kraven hadn't been useless. Not even close.
I had just seen and analyzed a working mechanism for converting spiritual energy into physical power. Yes, it was implemented through a monstrous crutch in the form of the AWG. Yes, its efficiency was probably terrible. But it worked. And if one person had done it, another person could repeat it.
And now, I had new ideas for my own enhancement.
After compiling a short, sanitized report for Fury, carefully avoiding any terms that his scientists couldn't use, I left the now-useless body in the laboratory. After what felt like the tenth decontamination of the day, I headed to the Mechanical Engineering Lab. The suit wasn't going to repair itself. Fortunately, I had a solid supply of Proteus in my inventory, so it wouldn't take long.
I naturally didn't make a second vibro-gauntlet. Reveal a weapon like that to Hydra? No, thank you.
Once the repairs were done, I headed toward the residential block in high spirits. It was five a.m. on the clock, but I wasn't sleepy in the slightest. I needed to neutralize the effect of the fatigue pill somehow and at least partly straighten out my ruined schedule. And I already had an idea.
It was simple in concept. I would create another useful thing from spiritual energy, drain myself dry, and I would do it in a way that S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't notice.
There were two options. I could either make it immaterial, like the spy dragonflies, or I could build it directly inside myself. It would be a kind of active spiritual superstructure. And I was leaning toward the second option.
My dragonflies weren't enough for total, fast espionage and field reconnaissance in real time.
Which meant that it was time for a new upgrade.
I would create a Spiritual Echolocator.
If this were DC, Batman would appreciate it.
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