The laboratory was an island of calm for me amidst S.H.I.E.L.D.'s never-sleeping base. It was funny, but now, almost a month since my isekai arrival, I could confidently say that my work capacity was absolutely abnormal. Objectively, it seemed physically impossible to be absorbed in work twenty-four seven and, at the same time, feel good. Yes, precisely. I wasn't squeezed dry like a lemon. On the contrary, the energy in me seemed to only accumulate and demand an outlet in new projects and ideas. This was another confirmation of my early thought that the "Spark of the Creator," which was embedded by the System, wasn't just a skill. It was a fundamental change in my nature. This, actually, wasn't so bad.
I often thought about an alternative scenario. If, from the very first days, I hadn't latched onto the System's possibilities, if I hadn't started working like a damned man, if I had simply sat in my apartment in Hell's Kitchen, hung out at college, and enjoyed the moment, then one snap from Thanos and all memory of me would have been erased from this world. My epitaph would have been a simple and humiliating phrase. "The Stupidest Isekai Protagonist."
But this way, considering that my strength was growing exponentially, I could confidently state that another couple of months of this kind of grinding and it would already be Thanos who had to fear my snaps. Bwa ha ha.
But enough empty reflections. There were problems that needed solving here and now, and the first of them was to continue the OP farming. Ideally, I should create some incredibly cool and inconspicuous bug for surveillance. But I already had my spiritual dragonflies and my sonar. Any physical bug, especially considering the ideas I wanted to cram into it, could be captured, studied, and used by S.H.I.E.L.D., and therefore by Hydra, against me. So, no. I would create something else. I would create a drone. A reconnaissance drone. One that could crawl on walls, hah.
The idea was impractical, in some ways even stupid, and it was more about grandstanding than being useful. For my main goal, which was obtaining OP, this was non-critical. At the same time, it was another project whose essence was demonstrating my genius to S.H.I.E.L.D. without creating a real threat to them.
I gathered my thoughts and represented the drone's construction on the holographic interface. It would be a flat device, the size of a credit card, that was capable of silently crawling on walls and ceilings. Instead of primitive wheels or tracks, it would use electroadhesion technology. On its belly, there would be flexible conductive pads. When voltage was applied to them, they would create an electrostatic attraction, which would allow the drone to literally stick to most surfaces, including glass, concrete, and metal. Yes, it would be slower than a flying drone and less flexible and adaptable. But it would have two key advantages. It would have absolute silence, and it would have the ability to remain in position for several days while barely spending any energy. Perhaps that was all, hah.
The creation process itself turned out to not be so complicated. The key part was developing the grip system. Classically, I used a polymer printer to create flexible track belts. Then, a robotic manipulator, with microscopic precision, applied the finest pattern of copper microfibers onto them. I spent about an hour experimenting with the pattern shape and the voltage until I achieved an optimal, controlled grip on different materials.
Next came the manufacturing of the chassis and the drive. I designed the flat body and the details, the gears and the shafts, in CAD, and I printed them from a light, but durable, polymer. For a slow and absolutely silent movement, I chose tiny, but high-torque, stepper motors.
The remaining matters were the assembly and the software. I created a custom board for controlling the motors and the electroadhesion system. The firmware's main task was managing the attraction power. It had to be sufficient so that the drone wouldn't fall, but it also couldn't be too strong, or else the drone wouldn't be able to move smoothly.
I conducted the final testing and made the drone crawl on test panels made from different materials. I calibrated the algorithms and checked the maximum tilt angle. Finally, I received the coveted notification.
[Device "Wall-Crawling Reconnaissance Drone" created. Complexity: Low. Received +150 OP!]
A flat reconnaissance drone that uses electroadhesion technology for silent movement on vertical and inverted surfaces. It is equipped with optical and acoustic sensors. It is ideal for long-term and covert observation in stationary conditions.
After I created a second drone and received another 100 OP, I was just about to proceed to the next project when the audio-video stream from the spy dragonfly activated in my consciousness. My little spy, who was comfortably settled on Peter Parker's shoulder, was transmitting a broadcast. I set aside my tools and fully concentrated on the report, observing what was happening through the dragonfly's eyes.
Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy were walking through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sterile corridor. Ahead of them, at a considerable distance, walked an escort agent. This created an illusion of privacy, which my little technical wonder easily violated.
"Gwen, do you even trust John?" was the first thing that Peter Parker asked, lowering his voice. To prevent any misunderstanding, he clarified. "I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just his knowledge, his capabilities. He spoke about 'awakening a technological genius,' but it's obvious that that's far from all of it. He hides so much. I'm just interested in your opinion."
"I trust John." Gwen Stacy said firmly, without the slightest hesitation, stopping and making Peter Parker look into her eyes. "I trust him possibly even more than I trust anyone else in this world."
"That's quite a categorical statement." Peter Parker said, and I could hear that he was stunned by such an answer.
"Nevertheless, it's the truth." Gwen Stacy shrugged, continuing to walk. "John, with all of his strangeness, is the only one who's trying to at least do something for this damn world. In the breaks between his brilliant projects, he even manages to get rid of bastards of varying degrees of nastiness."
"Yes, there was Kraven." Peter Parker admitted, with a heaviness in his voice.
"Kraven, the Purple bastard who was brainwashing people, Kingpin's meta-mercenaries, and that's only the ones that we know about." Gwen Stacy confirmed, heatedly. "In a couple of weeks, John has done more for this city than this whole damn organization that's so secretive that it hides even its own accomplishments, if there even are any. They stick their noses into everything, and even now, I can feel a constant, relentless surveillance that's being conducted on us."
At this fiery speech, I chuckled, sitting in my laboratory. My conscience pricked me a little, I admit. Gwen finished.
"So, yes, Peter. I trust John. I'm with him until the very end."
That was pleasant. It was very pleasant. At the very least, I could definitely count on Gwen Stacy.
"This already sounds like something more than just gratitude and friendship." Peter Parker commented quietly.
Gwen Stacy remained silent, and their walk to the parking lot continued in a tense quiet. They got into different cars and drove off. The dragonfly, of course, remained on Peter Parker. Gwen's sense wouldn't allow for normal surveillance on her while she was outside of the Base walls, where everything was noisy from hundreds of people and tracking technologies.
Peter Parker silently drove through the streets of Queens. Through his eyes, I saw how the neighborhood houses floated past and how the lights turned on in them. He was completely immersed in his own thoughts. When he arrived home, he silently went to his room and collapsed into his office chair. He threw back his head and began to thoughtfully study the ceiling. This lasted no more than two minutes. Then, he sharply shook his head, as if he were shaking off a spell. He stood up and resolutely approached his closet. He stood before it for about ten seconds, and then he opened the door. Inside, between the shelves, there was an inconspicuous false panel. He slid it aside, and Peter Parker took out a flat cardboard box. It was intriguing.
He placed the box on the bed and opened it. My eyes saw a suit. It was a real hero suit. It wasn't bright and loud. It was utilitarian and grim. It was dark gray, almost black, elastic fabric, with protective inserts made from Proteus on the chest, the ribs, the forearms, and the thighs. The most interesting part was the parallel-mounted sockets on the forearms and the chest. They were for an automatic injection system. In the box, next to the suit, there lay a scattering of ampoules marked with different colors. Inside of them were the stimulants. There was "Muscular" and there was "Absolute Predator."
So, that was what it was. It turned out that, all this time, Peter Parker hadn't only been suffering because of Mary Jane. He had been preparing. He had been strengthening himself, independently. He had been preparing for that arctic fox that, as he felt, would definitely creep up on him again. The arctic fox creeps up unnoticed, and Kraven had confirmed that. The ants in Peter Parker's pants had just acquired a quite material, combat confirmation. I understood that my friend was far more complex and determined than I had thought.
For a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, Peter Parker simply looked at his secret arsenal. He checked the seams on the suit, and he ran his fingers over the cold injector sockets. Judging by his grim face, I could say that a hurricane of thoughts was raging in his head. I expected that he would continue his work on the suit, or that he would, yielding to an impulse, put it on. But Peter Parker surprised me again.
He carefully folded the suit and put it back into the box. Then, he pushed it, not into the secret compartment in the closet, but into the far, dustiest corner under his bed. I understood his logic. He was removing the temptation from his sight. Under the bed, it was harder to reach than simply opening the closet door. This was an act of discipline and an act of trust in me. He left the stimulant ampoules on the table. I fully supported that. You always needed to have a Plan B at hand for a quick response.
Then, he picked up his phone. Through the dragonfly, I saw how he quickly and abruptly typed something. It was a pity that my spiritual scout wasn't too good for espionage. When an incoming message lit up on the screen and a call rang practically immediately, I understood who he was writing to. To his credit, he didn't take the call. Instead, he made several taps on the screen, and the calls stopped. It seemed that Mary Jane Watson had been sent to the blacklist. I respected that.
After a couple of minutes, while Peter Parker tiredly looked at the smartphone's dark screen, someone knocked on his door.
"Peter, may I come in?" A soft, female voice sounded from behind the door. It made him flinch and return to reality.
"Yes, Aunt May. Of course." Peter Parker answered.
A woman of about fifty entered the room. She had kind, but worried, eyes. In her hand, she held her phone. The picture instantly assembled itself, and I saw how Peter Parker's face twisted. He understood everything, too.
"Dear, Mary Jane is calling me on my phone." Aunt May explained. "She says that she can't reach you. She's very upset, and she's asking you to call her back. She says that you need to talk urgently and that she'll explain everything."
"She won't explain anything." Peter Parker shook his head. His voice was even and emotionless. He extended his hand for the phone. May, though she had doubts, gave it to him. Peter Parker brought the phone to his ear. Fortunately, it was on the shoulder side where the dragonfly was sitting.
"Peter, thank God. You have to hear me out. All of this isn't what you think it..." Mary Jane's fast, panicking voice sounded from the speaker.
"From this day forward, we are not acquainted." Peter Parker interrupted her, coldly and clearly. "Do not call me, or my family, anymore. Ever."
He ended the call, and he blocked Mary Jane's number on Aunt May's phone, too.
"She was cheating on me." Peter Parker admitted with a sigh, and he finally raised his eyes to May.
"Is this true?" May exhaled in surprise. "Oh, Peter. She always seemed like such a proper, such a good girl."
"Yes, sometimes life presents you with unpleasant surprises." Peter Parker chuckled, bitterly. "But this surprise is no longer a part of my life. That's the main thing."
For another couple of minutes, they discussed the situation. May, like any loving aunt, shifted from shock, to a maternal fury, and then to support. After she made sure that Peter Parker was holding up, she left his room. My dragonfly followed her out. Its spiritual charge was running out.
I analyzed the data package that I had received over the recent hours, and I understood that everything had worked out surprisingly well. From Gwen Stacy's side, I had her trust, and even more than that. I had Peter Parker's genius. Yes, he was broken right now, but he had made the right, adult decision. With time, he would understand what an invaluable service I had rendered him by tearing this poisonous root out of his life. Well, I shouldn't write myself off, either. I had potential. Anyway, it was time to return to work.
Encouraged by this small, but important, success, I returned to my crafting with new strength. Another couple of drones brought me +150 OP, which finished my total balance at 2200. Now, I moved on to an assembly line. I proceeded to create a whole series of new, similar projects. They were useless in their essence, but they were grandstanding, and they were interesting in their implementation. Most importantly, they were bringing in a stable income in the form of OP. Magical reverse engineering wasn't going to unlock itself.
Next on my list was a high-tech combat knife. In its handle, I built an ultrasonic generator that forced the blade to vibrate at a frequency of twenty thousand hertz. This micro-vibration would turn it from a simple blade into a monomolecular saw that was capable of easily cutting through Kevlar, thin sheet metal, and other composite materials.
I forged the blade from a special tungsten alloy that was capable of withstanding extreme loads. Then, I brought its form to an ideal on a CNC machine. The handle, with its hermetically built-in generator, was printed on the 3D printers and assembled manually. The test stand showed that the knife passed through a standard army armor plate like it was butter, which confirmed the viability of the concept. As always, the best confirmation was the system message.
[Weapon "Vibro-Knife" created. Complexity: Low. Received +150 OP!]
A tactical combat knife with a tungsten alloy blade and a built-in ultrasonic generator. The high-frequency vibration of the blade allows it to overcome most types of personal armor and light obstacles.
I made two more of these knives, and I had an extra 300 OP in my pocket. I proceeded to the next gadget. A magnetic GPS-GSM micro-tracker seemed promising for tracking someone.
I imagined that the output would be a tiny tracking device that was no bigger than a SIM card and that was enclosed in a durable magnetic housing. Inside, there would be a GPS module for determining the coordinates and a GSM chip for sending them. The main problem was the duration of its operation. Instead of struggling with creating ultra-compact batteries, I chose a software optimization. I radically cut its functionality. The tracker wouldn't work constantly. It would wake up once an hour for five seconds in order to catch a GPS signal, and it would wake up once every six hours in order to send the accumulated package of coordinates.
The creation process itself was uncomplicated. The main problem, though it was tautological, was the connection, due to the weak antenna. I used simulation software and designed a complex fractal antenna that was etched directly onto the printed circuit board. This maximized the signal reception and transmission, despite the tiny size. I printed the housing, with a recess for a powerful neodymium magnet, on a polymer printer. A robotic station installed the chips and a power controller onto the board, and I wrote the firmware that implemented an aggressive energy-saving mode. The device would be in a deep sleep state for ninety-nine percent of the time, which would provide it with more than a week of autonomous operation.
[Device "Micro-Tracker" created. Complexity: Low. Received +150 OP!]
A miniature GPS-GSM tracker with a magnetic mounting. It uses a fractal antenna and a deep sleep protocol to ensure long autonomous operation. It is designed for the covert tracking of objects at large distances.
The production of these trackers was short, so I created a whole batch of them and received a total of 450 OP. New crafts followed. Friday flowed into Saturday, and Saturday flowed into Sunday. The laboratory became my world, and the rhythmic hum of the machines became my only music. As I was absorbed in creating useful and not-so-useful junk, I noted that the fatigue pills had finished their action. I slept for several hours, and I returned on Sunday evening to the laboratory.
I created the last flash grenade, and as I received the coveted 50 OP, I finally finished my balance at 4000.
I returned to my sterile room, lay down on the bed, and mentally opened the window for the skill unlock. And then I hesitated.
This was a momentous moment. It was a turning point. I was a bit scared. This was a rare information package, and it was multi-disciplinary. Into my mind, there would be loaded not just a gigantic data array. My body, my nervous system, and possibly even my very soul would be changed and prepared for the upcoming magical manipulations. I was sure that the pain would be incredible.
So, enough reflecting. I classically swallowed an NZT tablet, hoping that it would help my brain survive and structure the coming storm.
In my consciousness, there surfaced a system query. It was clear and final.
[Do you truly wish to unlock information package (Rare) - From Trinitite to Power Stones (GURPS Technomancer) for 4000 OP?]
Yes.
I mentally wrote off the biggest expenditure from my balance, and I prepared for the pain. But instead of pain, something completely different came.
First, all of the sounds disappeared. It was an absolute and unnatural silence, as if the world around me had simply been turned off. Then, a dizziness came. It was a sharp, all-consuming feeling, as if the floor had gone out from under my feet and I was falling into a bottomless abyss. My vision narrowed down to a single point, and then it, too, went out, drowning in velvety darkness. I felt how my consciousness, my personality, my "I," was torn from my body and began to disintegrate.
This was something new. At the very least, I would be unconscious.
//==============//
"Chapters on Patreon progress: Currently at;
1. Harry Potter: Satan? Nah, Just My Family Crest = CHAPTER 177
2.Marvel: Cosmic Forger of Infinity = CHAPTER 104
3.Harry Potter: Beyond Good and Evil in the Wizarding World = CHAPTER 155
support me on Patreon for instant access to the 60+ advance chapters: patreon.com/redofic"