"Whoa, not a bad workshop," Blade commented, slowly walking deeper into the garage. He moved with predatory grace, his gaze catching every detail from the soldering station to the rows of chemical reagents. "Considering it's just a garage. You can see the work of a polymath immediately. And what's this?" He pointed with genuine interest toward one of my first creations. "A PVC pipe crossbow? Original."
I ignored his remark. Now was not the time for sentiment. Approaching one of the unremarkable plastic crates, I reached inside and materialized another Intellect Potion and three Muscle Stimulant injectors from my inventory.
"Here. This is payment for your help." I handed him the potions. "The Intellect Potion is the most valuable, so I can't give more for now."
Right, I only had four bottles left myself... I'd need to find time to brew more. It was too useful a thing.
"But if you can get some Ghost Orchid, part of the finished product will go toward future payment."
Blade took the vials, examined them closely, and gave them a shake. His movements were those of a professional evaluating new gear.
"First, I'll check what this is and how it goes down. Fortunately, with the upcoming purges, there will be plenty of opportunities to test your miracle drugs. I'll give feedback, obviously. Then we'll think about the ingredient supply."
"Great. The effect won't disappoint you," I assured him. I decided to strike while the iron was hot. "By the way, do you happen to know any... interesting recipes?"
The chance to legally obtain a blueprint without spending OP—one that the System might value at hundreds of points—was incredibly tempting.
Blade frowned. "My entire arsenal is geared toward one thing: killing vampires."
"I don't care!" I leaned forward with almost boyish excitement. "I just want to create something new. For me, the process of creation itself is important!"
And the OP, of course. Lots of OP.
He studied me for a few seconds, and then the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk.
"Actually... there is one recipe. A combat stimulant. A powerful thing, it improves reactions, sharpens instincts and intuition in battle to an extreme level. Though, there are comedowns: blood pressure spikes, the heart pounds like crazy, and an unprepared organism might just give out."
"Sounds like something that would pair perfectly with my Muscle Stimulant!" My eyes lit up.
"I think so too," Blade nodded, and a commercial interest appeared in his gaze. "In fact, for another injector of your stimulant, I'll generously share the recipe. And for one more, I'll provide a whole list for crafting lethal items specifically for vampires."
"Khaa... You're robbing a poor craftsman in broad daylight! And we're not exactly in the ghetto..." I sighed theatrically, but still reached into the crate and handed Blade two more injectors.
Blade only gave a mocking snort at my performance while accepting the "payment."
"Anyway, listen up. Better yet, write it down. We'll start with the combat stimulant the bloodsuckers call the Beast Potion. I snatched the recipe from them, by the way."
Taking a notebook from another box, filled with my early, mostly analytical notes, I prepared to record the priceless information.
"Alright. The base is Wolfsbane aconite extract. Rare stuff, but lethal. It temporarily suppresses logic and fear, unleashing pure combat instincts. Two milliliters per portion is enough."
"Where and how do I get it?"
"It grows in the mountain regions of Tibet. But don't sweat it, Uncle Blade will share a supplier's number. Tell them you're from Eric. Maybe they'll even give a discount," Blade smirked. "Though, more likely the opposite, they'll jack up the price. Next. A CNS activator. Syn-epiphen... damn, an epinephrine complex. The eggheads will help you there; it's synthesized in a lab. One milliliter per dose."
"No problems will arise with those," I mentally started drafting a task for Peter. "Hopefully."
"Great. Next is purified venom from the nursery web spider, species Dolomedes tenebrosus. I breed them myself, and the milking and purification process is quite a chore. But, anticipating your question, my lovelies stayed in Britain. So figure out for yourself how to get the venom. You need half a milliliter per portion."
"Hmm, I don't think that will be a serious problem," I nodded, already considering options.
"I think so too. In America, you can find anything with enough effort. With the solvent, specifically di-me-thyl-sul-fo-xide, there certainly won't be problems; just make sure to get high purity. And then, the process: heat the aconite extract in the solvent to about 60 degrees. Cool it down, add the spider venom, and mix in a centrifuge at low speeds. Then, introduce the syn-epin-hell-knows-what, the CNS activator, into the resulting emulsion. Do all this at low temperatures to avoid degradation. The drug is ready; you can transfer it to an injector. It lasts seven to ten minutes."
After clarifying a couple of points and recording everything in the notebook with a precision worthy of my new skill, we moved on to the lethal items for vampires.
The formulations here were noticeably simpler, but no less effective. First was the UV Flash Potion—essentially an alchemical grenade. Upon breaking, it produces a powerful, blinding flash of concentrated ultraviolet light that burns the skin of vampires within a 5-7 meter radius and causes temporary blindness.
In terms of recipe, it was a relatively simple two-component mixture. The outer sphere is filled with magnesium powder and potassium perchlorate. Inside is a thin glass ampoule with a catalyst: a mixture of strontium salt and fine Sunlight Quartz powder. Also a rare item obtainable through the same supplier. As I understood it, the strontium salt provides extra energy and temperature during the reaction, acting as a detonator for the quartz, forcing it to release its stored UV radiation. Simple, brutal, and deadly. Exactly Blade's style.
"The second potion is, roughly speaking, the Garlic Cloud," Blade continued, and notes of sadistic pleasure appeared in his voice. "When broken, it creates a thick, pungent aerosol cloud with a ten-meter radius. The concentration of allicin in it is such that the bloodsuckers start choking and writhing as if acid was poured into their lungs. It causes agonizing burns to the respiratory tract and mucous membranes. Especially effective in confined spaces." He smirked bloodthirstily. "Toss one of these into the ventilation of a nightclub where a brood of bloodsuckers is holed up, and just wait outside. Very fun."
The recipe was laughably simple: lyophilized (freeze-dried) allicin extract in powder form is mixed with ordinary baking soda. An inner ampoule with a concentrated citric acid solution causes a violent reaction upon breaking, and carbon dioxide sprays the garlic hell in all directions. A curious and cheap-to-produce item.
"The third and final one, the Silver Potion. Unlike the previous ones, it doesn't explode but sprays a sticky, viscous liquid. Inside is a suspension of silver nanoparticles. This crap causes deep, non-healing chemical burns. The gel is hard to wipe off, and it continues to eat through their flesh for hours."
The recipe was even simpler: an ultra-high concentration colloidal silver solution is mixed with a glycerin-based polymer gel. That was it.
"I use it as lubricant for my kunai and shuriken," he added, mechanically touching the hilt of one of the throwing knives on his belt.
His weaponry interested me. Finishing the recording of the recipes, I made sure all the details, thanks to the new skill, were firmly lodged in my head, and asked a question.
"Your weapons... Why do they look so much like a Japanese shinobi's arsenal?"
Blade looked at me, then broke into a wide smile.
"Because I am a real shinobi."
"What?" I was genuinely surprised. This fact was missing from my meta-knowledge.
"That's how it is," he shrugged. "Long story. I cleared out the bloodsucker population in Japan, ran into their boss, Alexander Haskell, whom you already heard about today and almost checked out. But, as befits the forces of good, I managed to escape. An old master found me there, half-dead. He took me as a student. For a couple of decades, I learned to be not just a killing machine, but a shadow, a ghost of a killing machine. By the time I finished, old man Haskell had settled down and stopped picking fights. But the other clans relaxed over these decades and forgot about my existence. Oh, the vampire blood that spilled then..." That grin of his was the most bloodthirsty one I had seen all day.
"And when was that, if it's not a secret?"
"Well, during the 'wild 90s', as they called them in the Soviet Union."
I quickly calculated in my head. "So, you spent a couple of decades training in ninjutsu until the 90s, lived before that, and more than twenty-five years have passed since..."
"Ah, I see where you're going, kid," he chuckled. "I'm 173 years old. I'm a dhampir. A half-breed of a human and a pureblood vampire. Such births are extremely rare and usually defective; they inherit all the crap from both races. I, on the other hand, got lucky. The strength and regeneration of bloodsuckers, but without their weaknesses."
"And who is your father?"
Blade's gaze turned icy for a moment.
"Doesn't matter. I killed him anyway." He sharply changed the subject. "We've gotten carried away with chatting. I have work to do. Keep in touch."
"Yeah, see you. I could use some sleep too."
"Yeah, have fun in your workshop," he nodded toward my workbench. "But don't get too carried away. I've had times when all this alchemy blew up right in my hands."
"I'll try..." I muttered. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was the precision, accuracy, and clarity granted to me by the Master Clockmaker.
Blade left, dissolving into the night as quietly as he had appeared. And I, despite the burning desire to immediately try out the new recipes, locked the garage and went into the house. The headache in the form of the Haskell Clan was resolved. I could breathe freely.
Standing in the silence of my new home, I suddenly realized that today had become a sort of turning point for me in this world. I didn't just survive. I fought back, found a powerful ally, and gained priceless knowledge. The main lesson was now learned: in this world, one shouldn't get too carried away with harvesting mystical ingredients in common places. Sooner or later, it will attract attention. But now I was prepared for that attention much better than yesterday. Now I had a plan, resources, and an ally.
And a whole night ahead to get some sleep before a new, crazy life.
***
I woke up from the sun's rays piercing through the blinds. This time, fortunately, sleep was sound and healthy, without a hint of paranoia. The threat from the Haskell Clan was neutralized, and it felt like an invisible but incredibly heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Saturday morning greeted me with a charge of pure, unadulterated motivation. I wanted to create. And create serious things, not toys like the Potato Gun, especially since new recipes were now in my possession.
Who was I to resist this desire? Especially considering it was beneficial to me from all sides. I quickly estimated the potential profit in OP.
Beast Potion: For the first portion, the system should give no less than 200 OP. Then descending: 150, 100, 50, 40... Five potions is about 620 OP.
Alchemical grenades: Solar Flare and Garlic Cloud are simpler consumables. I bet on 100 OP for the first one, totaling 240 OP for five of each type. In total—480 OP.
Silver Potion: The recipe is elementary. If they give 50 OP for the first, that will already be good. About 150 OP for five vials.
In total, if I can craft everything, I'll have over 1200 OP on my balance.
"Numbers like that can't help but motivate..." I muttered into the void, grabbing my smartphone. It was time to start. I dialed the number Blade had given me yesterday.
"Hi. I'm from Eric," I said when the other end answered.
The dialogue with the man who introduced himself as Lucas was short and businesslike. No extra questions. The most exotic ingredients: 20 ml of Aconite extract (taking extra) — 4000 dollars. One Sunlight Quartz crystal, enough for dozens of grenades — 1000 dollars. A couple of milliliters of nursery web spider venom of the right species — 300 dollars. Pickup after five in the evening. Payment—cash only. Perfect.
Now for the small things: buy the rest. And here an obvious problem arose that shouldn't have been one: the syn-epinephrine complex.
"Fuck..." I clutched my head. "If I turn to Parker again, it's going to look far too suspicious."
A synthetic analog of adrenaline. You can't find that in open sale. Ask Blade? No, I said there would be no problems with this; I need to keep up appearances. I'll have to risk it with Peter again.
Oh, to hell with it! I found his number and decided to call this time. Saturday, a day off. Even if he's in the lab, he's likely doing personal projects. That's what I need.
"Hi, Peter, not interrupting?" I asked as soon as the ringing stopped.
"Hi, John! No, everything's fine! Do you need something else synthesized?" Peter's voice was... strange. Too cheerful, with notes of impatience and poorly hidden excitement. He didn't even try to hide it.
"Um, Peter, is everything alright with you? Did something happen?" I decided to feel out the situation.
"What? Why would you think that? No, everything's great!" His forced nonchalance only confirmed my guesses. He definitely has some problems. And knowing his personality type, he'll never admit to them until it's too late.
"Hm, alright then. Guess I just didn't get enough sleep and I'm imagining things," I smoothly changed the subject. "You tell me instead, will you take another order? Need to synthesize about 10 milliliters of a syn-epinephrine complex. How much will it cost and how long will it take? Private labs charge ridiculous money for stuff like this."
I added the last part on purpose to give him the feeling that I have other, albeit expensive, options.
"Oh, synthetic adrenaline now? Interesting, interesting..." Scientific interest awoke in his voice. "Yes, I can. For your volume, the reagents will come out to about 100 dollars, give or take."
"I'll pay 300. For the urgency and your brilliant brain."
"Um, yes, of course... I'll probably head to the lab now then. It's empty on weekends anyway. I'll start the synthesis, and you can come by in about two hours."
He agreed too easily. Моя guess about his problems is likely correct. And those problems are most likely financial. It would be a sin not to take advantage of the moment.
"Peter, one more thing. 100 milliliters of the testosterone you're already familiar with. A thousand dollars from me."
"A thousand?!" I could literally hear his eyes widening through the phone, and his breathing became shallow. "Y-yes, I can certainly do that, but... John, what is all this for?"
There it was. The dilemma. His scientific curiosity and suspicions fighting with a desperate need for money. It was time to reveal some cards.
"Let's do this," my voice became more serious. "When I get there, I'll tell you something and explain. This isn't for a phone conversation. From you—synthesis and total silence. Deal?"
A pause hung on the other end of the line. I heard his heavy breathing.
"Yes..." he finally answered. "I think that would be best."
He hung up.
Well, looks like today is the day for strengthening the relationship with Parker. I wasn't just going to use him, but turn him into a full-fledged, albeit not fully informed, partner. I wonder if he's already involved with Gwen Stacy, or rather her spider-themed alter ego? I'll need to carefully find that out as well.