Chapter 95
We talked for another solid hour after that. We covered everything from what to do with the captured Hydra arsenals to the legal mess of S.H.I.E.L.D. going public. By the end, even Hyperion looked drained. He just sat there, bored out of his mind, while Fury and Hill bickered over security protocols.
Bureaucracy. The deadliest weapon ever invented. The day I start using it to win arguments is the day I know I'm officially lost.
So, to speed things up, I volunteered to handle the bulk of the media nightmare myself. That perked everyone up around the table.
Fury's good mood vanished about ten seconds later, right after what I said next.
"Who said anything about me doing it personally?" I shrugged, the picture of innocence. "I just finished building a personal AI assistant. Incredibly useful. You know Stark's JARVIS? Mine is... in the same ballpark."
"An AI?" Fury's one good eye narrowed. His look said everything: suspicion, and buried underneath it, a hungry curiosity.
"An AI," I repeated. "One that'll take a load off all our shoulders. Trust me, Nick, a thousand of your top analysts working online couldn't match one of my algorithms. It can engage directly with huge crowds, which is exactly who we need to reach. As for Blink... someone has to moderate it and filter the garbage. Rubedo, that's my AI, is the best and fairest option for the job."
Right. Just an AI. Just a "helpful assistant." Not a goddamn Digital God who could crash the global economy with a thought.
That was the version I sold Fury. He was interested, no question. But lucky for me, he had a mountain of his own problems right now, so he didn't dig into my business.
So, on top of building Blink and holding military patents like Proteus, Thompson Corp. was about to jump into the civilian market as the official merchandise handler for the Vanguard team. The profits would be staggering. I didn't care about the money, and I said so flat-out, nipping any suspicions about greed in the bud.
"All profits go into a dedicated fund. We'll call it the Vanguard Welfare Fund. From now on, that money gets redirected to help people hurt by global threats," I glanced at Bruce, "and sometimes by us. To rebuild. For medical bills. To fund good research. To back politicians who are useful to us. Bottom line, it's the team's own war chest, free from any government strings."
"That's smart." Fury nodded, tapping another note into his tablet. My apparent selflessness had clearly won him over.
So. Let me run down my to-do list. In the short term, I needed to:
Build what could easily become the most popular app ever made.
Construct high-tech suits for the whole team.
Work with Rubedo on a global ad campaign for Vanguard.
Have a talk with Peter about joining up.
And the real kicker, which made the first three items pointless until I solved it: fix Rubedo's conscience. Build the Governor.
"Also," Fury added, lifting his weary gaze to mine, "no hurry, but S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to commission a larger batch of your Ash and Dawn serums within the next month. We need agents back in the field. Cleaning out Hydra cost us."
Noted. Another item on the endless list.
As for S.H.I.E.L.D. itself... they had their work cut out for them. Fury had to tell the world Vanguard existed (but only after Blink launched). He had to deal with Cap: the thawing, the debrief, the recruitment pitch. He had to oversee the rehab of the Winter Soldiers. And most importantly, Fury had to tank the immense pressure from the "old guard" and buy the rest of us time.
He needed to hold the line for a couple more days. Once Rogers was out in public, the backlash should start to fade. I figured Barton was running personal security for him 24/7. Hm... Fury could probably use an upgrade too. It would be a hidden armored layer for that battered coat he always wore. I could work it into the production schedule... yeah, that wouldn't take long.
There was also Jessica Jones and other "interesting" metas out there. It's worth having Rubedo dig up the most complete list possible. Mercenary metas from the dark web, lone-wolf mutants, lab rats, wandering mages... are plenty of unattached powerhouses who could bulk up our roster.
"Meeting's over," Fury finally said, shutting his tablet. "I appreciate everyone being here."
A collective, exhausted sigh swept the room. Done.
Almost seven hours.
It was seven hours of arguing, bright ideas, political maneuvering, and stretches of utterly useless chatter. But those hours had produced results. We had a roadmap. Everyone at that table now saw the same picture. And that shared picture is what separates a random bunch of guns-for-hire from a real team that can work together.
Consciously or not, Fury had just united the future Vanguard more effectively than Captain America ever could. Rogers's charisma from those old videos was undeniable. But Fury... Fury just dragged us all through hell and made us stare into the dark together. That forges bonds stronger than any flag.
Once the meeting broke up, people shuffled out, rubbing their temples like truly exhausted people do. I headed for the parking garage with Gwen.
"So yeah, there's still a mountain of stuff to get through over the next day," I said as we stepped into the elevator. "But tomorrow night, we're going to a real restaurant. An actual date. That's not negotiable."
"Hm." She smiled, a spark in her eye. "I thought we'd skipped past that part. Jumped straight to the last chapter."
"Well, technically," I said with a straight face, "the couch in the second-floor lounge pulls out. Or we could go to your place."
Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.
"I meant the wedding!" she mumbled, flustered.
"Oh, that," I played dumb. "Well, that's... definitely on the table too. As long as you're not literally a Black Widow."
"Please," she snorted. "You'd have to lose your head first. You'd chip a tooth trying."
"That's the praying mantis, actually." I gave her an exaggerated once-over. "But if you are one, you're a seriously cute one. I'll take my chances."
"Idiot," she laughed, giving my shoulder a playful shove. The humor faded from her face, replaced by something serious. "What about Peter? You said he got powers?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "Very... significant powers," I said vaguely, remembering the cracked Adamantium. Peter had plenty more surprises in store for this world. "He's actually designing his suit right now. Yours needs an update too, by the way."
"Ghost is perfect for me. It's ideal!"
"Like I said in the meeting, I'm adding phasing. So you can walk through walls and be a real Ghost-Spider. Bring the suit to the lab tomorrow and I'll work my magic."
"'Magic' is what it looks like to outsiders like me."
"A girl just needs to look good." I smirked.
"Hey!"
We hit the parking garage, tossing light jokes back and forth to work off the tension from those seven hours. Honestly, I would've preferred a different way to unwind... but priorities first.
By my car, I stopped and just looked at her. She looked back. To hell with it.
I pulled her in and kissed her. No warning, no fanfare, right there in a S.H.I.E.L.D. parking garage. She froze for a second, surprised, then kissed me back. Tentative, but real. I could tell she was a total beginner at this. Not like I was some master lover in this life (definitely not), but in my old one... I'd had a few relationships, none great, which is how I ended up as a bachelor.
But here... I felt something inside me, the constant tight wire of paranoia and threat analysis loosen just a fraction. Let's try. Let's see where it goes. Maybe this could be another anchor for my messed-up head.
I broke the kiss. To spare her further embarrassment (her ears were bright red), I simply smiled.
"Don't forget the suit."
And I left her standing there as I drove off into the sunset. Well, into my lab.
*****
"Seriously? White and gold?" I raised an eyebrow as I walked into the lab.
Peter stood at a display stand. Hanging on it was the first draft of his future suit.
It was... beautiful. Genuinely stunning. Full of style. Peter had poured his heart into it. And Rubedo had definitely added his own detached touch, guided by pure logic: grandeur equals media attention. Attention equals public recognition. Recognition equals success and safety. Success and safety equals helping Peter Parker.
Why "helping Peter Parker"? Simple: the AI's mind was built from my brain patterns. And I knew all too well that the whole multiversal mess with the Web of Fate, Anansi, the Inheritors, every Miguel O'Hara out there, was one of the biggest threats around. I'd felt it myself.
Rubedo, like me, understood the logic: if the Inheritors wreck the world, there's nothing left to build. So he was doing everything he could to prep our Spider for that war. Not just to make a Spider-Man. Make the Absolute Spider-Man.
Well... grandeur is everything, I guess.
I smiled to myself. The Absolute Extremis. The Absolute Spider-Man. Gwen would become the Absolute Ghost-Spider soon. If I tweaked a couple things for Barton's suit, he'd be the Absolute Hawkeye. We were building a whole Universe of Absolutes.
"Uh, yeah." Peter scratched his head, looking at his creation. "I... borrowed a bit from your suit in that Anansi illusion. Rubedo helped make it real. It turned out even better than I hoped! It's light, tough (I tested it), and runs entirely via a neural link. But I haven't filled it with tech yet. Honestly, I'm not sure what to put in."
"Trackers, micro-drones, quick medical kits," I listed. "That last one's not for you; it's for the people you rescue. And speaking of... since you can change your venom's properties, and the old saying goes, 'everything is poison, everything is medicine'... see if you can heal. Not for you. For others."
Peter's eyes lit up. This was an idea that somehow slipped past us during that chaotic strength-testing session.
"And let's be real." I clapped him on the shoulder. "With a suit like that, you have to join the team. You'll be posing for magazine covers right next to Captain America."
"The team? Captain... Cap?!" Peter looked like he'd been smacked in the head again.
I gave him the quick version of the meeting: Vanguard, S.H.I.E.L.D. going public, the team lineup, Rogers coming out of the ice soon. Peter listened, wide-eyed. When I finished, he nodded seriously, but what he said next threw me.
"You... mentioned a Jessica Jones might join?" He frowned. "I don't know if it's a coincidence, but... I had a classmate with that name."
Damn. This was Marvel. No coincidences here. But... from what I knew, Jessica Jones was a worn-out, boozy detective in her early thirties. This one was Peter's age. Which meant she probably hadn't gotten her powers yet. Cage already had his, supposedly, and they were from the same timeline... Huh. What if...
"Peter," I said carefully. "Your instinct. How's it... reacting... to this? Your classmate?"
"Yeah," he said, nodding right away, going quiet for a second. "Deep down, I feel like it's the same person. And also..." He tilted his head, sensing something new. "...Jessica is... lost right now. Broken. Something's really wrong with her."
"That's almost cheating," I admitted. "Having something like that." I clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, then. There's your first real mission as a new Vanguard hero. Find a lost, broken girl before S.H.I.E.L.D. does. And just... talk to her. Like a person. She probably needs a friend, not a government recruiter."
"Got it," Peter said simply. "I'll handle it. But... about the team... I'm in. It's just that I can't figure out how to juggle it all yet. School, working for you, having a life... now this too."
"Vanguard is for global-level threats, Pete," I reassured him. "An evil Hyperion, or another Knal like in your trial..." Peter flinched. "Luckily, stuff that big doesn't happen every day. So don't stress. Live your life. Show up for the occasional meeting, be ready when Fury calls, something dramatic like 'Vanguard, assemble!'... And yeah, keep up a public profile. You'll be one of the first accounts on Blink."
"Understood," Peter said, nodding seriously. "Then... I'll head out? The suit works, even without the tech. I want to... take it for a spin. Out there."
Go.
Yeah, his suit still needed work. Not just tech. Conceptual enchantment would do him good. Like it would for all of the Vanguard. But that was later. My priorities came first.
I turned back to Rubedo when I remembered one last loose end. Though given how things stood, calling it a problem was generous. Hydra was gone. Peter was stronger than ever. He could handle it alone.
"Peter," I called as he reached the door.
"Yeah?"
"Felicia Hardy. That's the name of the cat burglar who tried to steal the amulet from you."
Peter went still, the memory coming back.
"Your call on what to do with her," I finished.
He nodded without a word, quietly folded his shiny new suit into a gym bag, and left the lab.
Good. Jessica Jones and Felicia Hardy. Two potential headaches... or allies. Maybe Peter would sort out his personal life with one of them. Ha.
"Rubedo, status report on all assigned tasks," I said, turning from the empty stand.
"Analyzing. Suit 'Spider-1,' readiness: seventy-three percent. Further modifications needed to integrate electronics and expand the 'Spider-Man' role's capabilities. Building transfer to Palladium Reactor power, readiness: ninety-four percent. Reactor installed by Agent Peter Parker. Building power grid needs refinement for full autonomy. Development of Operation: Thorn for Frank Castle, readiness: four hundred percent."
"Wait, wait, wait," I held up a hand. "Four hundred? Explain."
"Four independent plans developed, each one hundred percent effective. Plan A: 'Direct Intervention' (your resources). Plan B: 'False Target' (S.H.I.E.L.D. resources). Plan C: 'Cascade Collapse' (economic ruin). Plan D: 'Total Control' (using the Mental Worm)..."
"Got it. Rubedo, stop. First: new task, build yourself a functional robotic body. Peter and Gwen won't always be in the building. Second: for Operation Thorn, scrap any plan that uses the Mental Worm, causes mass civilian casualties, or directly involves S.H.I.E.L.D. Keep only the one that needs the least from us and the most from Castle himself."
"Acknowledged. Task 'Avatar' created. Filtering plans... Operation Thorn readiness adjusted to one hundred percent. Plan 'Surgical Strike' ready for presentation."
"Good. Show me."
And Rubedo laid it out. The plan was brutally simple. Elegant in its directness. It used all of Rubedo's strengths (total network omniscience), while keeping Frank as the main actor.
Here's the core: Rubedo had already found Kingpin's main underground base under an empty building. He'd assessed the security. He'd cracked every system, surveillance, and comms. He could cut that base off from the outside world at any time, turning it into a tomb.
All the meta mercenaries, the scariest part of Fisk's security, would be sent across the city on a fake "Kingpin" order to hit a rival. What remained inside would be Kingpin and his regular guards: normal guys with guns, who wouldn't even know they were under attack until it was way too late.
That attack was Frank's job. For gear, Rubedo recommended the old, beat-up Chimera armor, a vibro-gauntlet, and combat stims. That's it. Against normal humans with that loadout, nothing could stop him.
The key part: Frank would kill Kingpin himself, specifically with the gauntlet. Probably in a brutal way. He'd settle his grudge. And maybe, just maybe, he'd start to come back from the edge. At the very least, it might finally get him to look up and see the world again.
"Weak spots in the plan?" I asked, processing it all. Rubedo, as usual, went straight for the simplest solution.
"The target's personal ability. Wilson Fisk practices Qi." Rubedo said, which I did not want to hear.
How did this human tank learn Qi? Right... the "Absolute" Universe...
"His skill level is low," the AI continued. "Roughly equivalent to a weak super-soldier. However, he trained directly under Davos, so he might have some nasty tricks up his sleeve."
"Davos? Why flag him?"
"Davos, also called the Steel Serpent, is a Qi master on par with the current Iron Fist, Danny Rand. Currently, Davos is building power and resources to steal the Iron Fist from Rand."
"I don't have that in my knowledge base," I admitted. I knew Iron Fist, but Davos was new to me.
"The data came from Wilson Fisk's secure communications during planning," Rubedo answered flatly.
"Okay. So Fisk uses Qi... Why is the plan still at one hundred percent readiness?"
"The vibro-gauntlet and combat stims," Rubedo replied simply.
I had to nod. Right. Against a hit from the vibro-gauntlet that could shred a car, "weak Qi" wouldn't mean much.
"And why's the armor just the Chimera? Why not Adamantium with a Vibranium coating?"
"Given the target's low threat level, using Omega-class materials is neither practical nor necessary."
That made sense. If Fisk was just a "weak Qi user," then the Chimera's protection (basically Proteus-level) plus the stims would be plenty for Frank.
Alright. The plan was solid. I'd quickly fix up the Chimera for Frank, and build the conscience core so Rubedo wouldn't go rogue during this revenge mission... then I could call in the Punisher.
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