Chapter 25 An offer that I refuse

I sat at my desk in the workshop Burstein had purchased a few weeks ago, a highly advanced microscope (built by yours truly) examining Jessica's blood in front of me (which nearly ended up with me being kicked in the balls when I asked for it, until I managed to explain that it was solely in order to figure out just how the chemical enhanced her, so I could either enhance her further or cure her completely. She became very quiet after I said that, before she hesitantly agreed and she still won't tell me which option she'd actually prefer).

Usually delicate lab equipment would be too small for me to manipulate with any degree of precision, but this one was special because I had taken the blueprints I stole from Wakanda so long ago, and made a haptic interface for it, like I remembered seeing from the Mass Effects games back in my old life (they sadly didn't exist in this one).

The haptic overlay was very simple, as it was nothing more than scaled up hard-light versions of the various knobs and buttons on the microscope itself, which allowed me to turn 'fake' buttons the size of dinner plates with ease, and they then translated the movements to their corresponding parts, allowing me to work in great detail.

Or it should, had I actually been working.

Instead, I was merely leaning back in my chair, long legs stretched out in front of me as I crossed my massive arms in front of my chest, Sterns wearing his six-armed exoskeleton standing next to me as we were both staring at my computer screen.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect him to do that." Sterns remarked in a flat tone of voice, and I can't help but nod my head in agreement as my burning eyes take in the scene in front of me.

The workshop was a hive of activity, the people Toomes had sent me gladly assisting my other two scientists on whatever project they were working on, using their enhanced strength (wherever applicable of course) in order to ferry stuff around and help with production.

Still, despite the ruckus, the speakers of the screen made themselves clearly heard above the din of the workshop. And what they broadcasted had the potential to turn into very bad news for me.

"We're looking here at what Tony Stark has claimed to be the first of many new cars for the New York metro system, which reportedly has technology inside it based on the inventor's famous Iron Man suit! These new cars will travel smoother, quieter and run on a vastly more sustainable source of energy, claims the CEO of Stark Industries. Stark Industries has released an official statement, in which they say that upgrading public transport within the city is the first step of many in improving the daily lives of all citizens and indeed, the entire world." A young reporter said, her back to the tracks of one of the many metro stations in New York, on which sat an entirely new coach.

If the old metro looked like a repurposed toaster, this new one looked like it could be a space shuttle's classier brother.

The scene switched to an easily grinning Stark, who was being surrounded by microphones and reporters on all sides, heavy shades hiding his eyes from view and reflecting the bright flashes of their cameras.

"Mister Stark! Mister Stark! Is it true that you have only nowbegun to release your Iron Man technology to the public because of the rise of Titan Solutions and their innovations?"

Whoever the hell that was, I was gonna find him and wring his neck for asking a leading question like that. Igniting a feud between me and Tony might end up as good publicity for him, but for me it would probably turn into enough of a nightmare that I just might turn to drinking heavily.

Not that it would do much, but it's the principle of the thing.

Turning towards the reporter, easy grin still in place, Tony reached up and took of his sunglasses, revealing smiling eyes, though the resolve in them was unmistakable.

"Titan Solutions can certainly be called ambitious in their claims, and I can honestly say that it warms my heart to have inspired such bright young people to try and make this world a better place, just as I set out to do when I became Iron Man. Seeing their attempts at following in my footsteps has made me realize that, despite all that I have done for the people of Earth, I can always do more. A year ago, I said that I was Iron Man. Today, I say: we can all be Iron Man!"

At his bold shout, a massive cheer rose up from the crowd around him, enough to completely drown out the questions of the reporters, so Tony merely put his sunglasses back on and made to leave, but right before he slipped them in front of his eyes, I could see him look straight into the camera (and thus, at me) and give a sly wink.

I got the message immediately.

The game is afoot.

With a growl and a wave of my hand, the screen shut off (Sterns took one look at the haptic interface I had slaved over for three days in order to make, then made all of our equipment capable of responding to simple gestures in just two. He said that he did it in order to make us all work more efficiently. I maintained that he did it just to show me up) as I leaned further back into my chair, rubbing a hand over my face.

"So, what are we going to do?" Sterns asked idly, two of his robot arms extending smoothly in order to interact with the microscope as he started looking over Jessica's blood, despite the fact that he was still standing next to me, his arms feeding data directly into his gargantuan brain.

I swear, at this point I'm convinced that not only is Sterns trying to give himself technopathy, he's actually making quite a bit of headway too.

Giving a tired shake of my head, I got up from my chair and started pacing in front of my desk, watching from the corner of my eye as a third robotic arm started writing on a pad of paper as Sterns stood motionless, sifting through data.

Honestly, I'm glad he has Oliver. Despite all of his grumbling shortly after I rescued him from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s clutches whenever I asked him to help me with my armour, he has certainly taken a shine to engineering. If it weren't for the fact that he enjoys working on his pride and joy with his own hands, I could definitely see him end up in some sort of Mobius-chair, controlling a host of robotic tentacles with his mind in order to interact with the world since he has allowed his body to atrophy.

Yeah, gotta keep an eye out so he doesn't go down that road.

As I continued my pacing, I answered my friend's earlier question.

"I don't know Sam. Frankly, I don't want to know. Don't get me wrong, I like the bigger workshop, and actually having large amounts of money is more fun than I could have ever imagined, but I never wanted to run a business. I'll just sic Hogarth on Tony and continue with my own projects-"

Before I can finish my sentence, the phone in my pocket starts to ring, and as I look at the caller ID, I can't help but chuckle. At Sterns questioning look, I elaborate.

"Speak of the devil and all that."

Seeing his answering grin, I take the call as I resume my pacing (a habit left over from my previous life, where I would literally get up from my chair in order to walk while I called without even meaning to do it).

"Hello Hogarth."

"I assume you've seen the news?"

Straight to business then, as expected from a stern woman like her.

"If you mean whether or not I saw Tony Stark come out swinging by bringing parts of his own tech to the market, while dissing us at the same time, then yes, I have indeed seen the news." I reply, annoyance colouring my words as I think about how the man just subverted every expectation I had of him.

I had been prepared for the man to get riled up; I had even envisioned a scene somewhat similar to the Senate hearing in the Iron Man 2 movie, but this time with me instead of Hammer trying to go against Stark.

I certainly hadn't expected for the man to just… not sue me right from the get go, and start acting as my competitor instead.

A competitor with larger facilities and a longer history in the business than me, as well as enjoying far greater popularity with the masses.

Still, while I hadn't considered that as a possibility, Jeri Hogarth had, if her steady tone was anything to go by.

"This is unfortunate, but it gives us a chance to expand our contacts, as well as dig ourselves in in our niche of the market. I assume you have a lot more technology ready to be rolled out? The Blue Box is great for selling to large corporations, but you'll need something far more visible if you want to swing the public back to your side again."

Thinking back on the cache of Wakandan technology I have stolen, mentally flipping through the hundreds of designs, I give a slow nod, though I belatedly realise that Hogarth of course can't see it.

"Yeah. Give me two days, and I'll have something to market."

"Make it quick. We can't allow a man like Stark to build up momentum, or the hits will just keep coming."

"I know Jeri. Two days, then you'll have something new to fight back with."

I can hear her sigh across the line, her voice sounding tired. Then again, she has been working non-stop for the past two weeks trying to turn my crazy schemes into a billion-dollar corporation, so I suppose that is to be expected.

"You know, Titan Solutions could really benefit from having you at its helm. And I don't mean that from just a purely PR point of view. I'm just your legal counsel, Mr. McCole, a company like yours should be run by its CEO."

I scuff the concrete floor of the workshop in thought, glancing at Sterns from the corner of my eye. He has stopped fiddling around with the microscope, and is instead standing about twenty feet away from me, bent forwards up to his waist in the machinery under Oliver's hood, though one of his robot arms is fixed in my direction, and when it spots me looking at it, I can see Sterns shrug (without looking back at me) clearly indicating that I should decide for myself.

"Look, Hogarth. I'll make an effort to make more appearances. More interviews, more meetings, more press-conferences, all that kinda stuff. But I don't wantto run the business. None of us here do, we're cool with just inventing new stuff. You've been doing fine so far: I trust you to keep the company going for a little longer, just until I find someone suited enough to take the job permanently." I say with a heavy sigh as I start using my meta-knowledge in order to see if there was anyone in this universe that I would want to have run my business for me, making me tons of money without the fear of them stabbing me in the back.

Jeri's tired chuckle brings me back from my musings.

"You do realize you just said you'd trust a lawyer with your money, right?"

"Trust me Mrs. Hogarth, that's not the weirdest thing I've done. Not by a long shot." I say with a laugh, prompting another chuckle from the stern woman.

"Very well then. Tomorrow, at three pm. You'll be heading the meeting with Mr. Cross from Pym Technologies. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Thanks Hogarth."

"Thank me when we're rich."

"We are rich."

"When we're richer then. Goodbye, Mr. McCole."

And without waiting for my answer, the line goes dead, the lawyer having hung up on me. Taking a considering look at the phone in my hand, I give an amused shake of my head as I slide it back into my pocket, walking back towards my desk so that-

"Who was that? A secret admirer, perhaps?"

"GAH!"

Whipping around, my hands come alive with a hellish glow, before I blink a couple of times in surprise at the smug grin Jessica Jones is sending me from where she snuck up behind me.

"God woman, why would you even do that!?" I say as I calm down a bit from the sudden jumpscare, as I look at the woman in a new light.

My senses had been enhanced both by the serums and the Heart-shaped Herb, and I still hadn't even heard a whisper of a sound indicating her approach. She was good.

"Because I think hearing you scream like a little girl is funny?" Jones answered bluntly, her face still showing a massive grin.

"I do not scream like a little girl. I didn't scream at all, I just… yelped." I rumble in dissatisfaction, not helped at all by Jessica's snort at my lame comeback.

Switching to a different tack, I sit back down in my chair again, looking at her from the corner of my eye as I grab the notes that Sterns has scribbled down during his look through the microscope.

"If you're back already, then I assume you've finished your assignment?"

"Yeah, yeah. One Melvin Potter and Betsy Beatty, standing in your oh so grand lobby. Also, the parents of that poor girl should be sued for child abuse. Really, setting your kid up with that kind of name?" Jessica snarks as she walks closer, hopping onto my desk, legs dangling as she glances at me.

"Why the hell did you send me out to find them anyway? Sure New York is big, but I figure that finding Sterns or Burstein or Mason was just as hard. You could've done this yourself, so why send me?"

Turning to face her with an annoyed look as I see that she's deliberately sitting on some of my research notes, I give her an answer in the most sarcastic drawl I can manage.

"Because I think sending you out as my errand boy is funny?" I echo back to her, only to get swatted on the shoulder for my cheekiness.

Ignoring the hit (while it would've dislocated the arm on a baseline human, to me it just felt like a faint tap) I place Sterns notes back onto the desk in order to look through at a later time as I stand up and start walking towards where Potter and his sweetheart are waiting for me.

"Mostly because I've been swamped with being the public face of Titan Solutions, which is precisely why I didn't want to be the CEO of a large corporation. I got better things to do than just sit around all day stuck in boring meetings. Also, because I figured that keeping you cooped up in the workshop is a hazard for the people that work here."

Again I get swatted in the shoulder, and again I ignore it. It didn't take me long to figure out that the reason Jessica enjoyed getting physical with me (oh get your brains out of the gutters, I meant the hitting and the kicking for God's sakes!) was because I was the only person she knew that she could do that with safely.

While I had started to find Superman less and less interesting as I grew up more, there was one speech of his that I always found very impressive, and it was the one about living in a world made of cardboard.

While not on the DC Comics superhero's level of strength (honestly I had a hard time figuring who in this dimension wason his level. Ego, maybe?) Jessica had something of a similar problem, considering humans were just so squishy.

She always had to be careful with her strength, in order to not crush bones whenever someone offered a handshake, or to not break her sister's spine in half whenever they hugged.

I was the only person she knew that she could act with as if she were just a baseline human, without the worry of her superstrength breaking everything.

Still, if she could tone down the kicking, that'd be great.

"Look, I got another assignment for you-"

"Another one?! I just got back from the last one! Find whoever you're stalking yourself, creep!"

"For the last time, woman, I'm not a creep!"

"Says the guy who hires innocent young women to track down unsuspecting citizens!"

"You? Innocent? You better tell me who you stole that sense of humour from, I'm betting they want it back by now."

We kept bickering until we reached the 'lobby' as Jessica had so charmingly put it, which didn't really amount to more than a cleared area around the entrance, with a few comfortable couches placed inside and with a coffeemaker.

Seeing Potter and Beatty look around with wide eyes at the frantic levels of activity around them, I place my hand on Jessica's shoulder (the first time I did that she tried to dislocate my arm out of reflex, but my immense durability coupled with my greater strength meant that she just ended up dangling from my outstretched arm like some demented sloth) bringing her to a halt and ignoring her furious expression at the physical contact.

"Look, take your time before you head back out there, all right? I really want to meet this guy, his name is Holden Radcliffe and he's a brilliant scientist, but given the sheer scope of the project I'm thinking of putting him on, there really isn't that big of a time constraint on the mission since it'll take too long to be of immediate use anyway, whether you grab him today or next month. Just find him, and then report to me whenever you feel up to it. In the meantime? Go do something for yourself, try to relax and unwind. Go visit your sister, I'm betting she misses you since I know you haven't talked to her ever since you started working for me."

Jessica is silent after my short speech, and I can see indecision warring inside her at the mention of her sister. Finally her shoulders slump as she lets out a sigh, waving a hand in annoyance.

"Fine, fine. Give me my cash, and I'll be out of your hair. Figuratively speaking, of course." She finishes with a grin, drawing an annoyed grumbling from me as I get out my wallet and start counting out her 'finder's fee'.

"You know you don't have to bring up my baldness in everyconversation we have, right?"

"Yeah, I do. I just think it's funnier that way. See ya later dumb-dumbs! Mamma needs her booze!"

And with those charming words and a cheerful wave, Jessica stalks right past the confused looking Potter and Beatty, stepping outside into the New York City high-life, and I suspect on her way to the nearest liquor store.

Shaking my head at the superhuman's antics I walk over to the lost looking couple, my best smile shining at full power as I spread my arms in a gesture of generosity.

"Ah Mr. Potter! And Mrs. Beatty! How nice of you to join us!"

Melvin looks up at me with a very child-like expression on his face, placing one arm protectively around his girlfriend's shoulders.

"The girl said you can keep Betsy safe. Can you?"

Folding my hands behind my back, I give them the most reassuring smile I can.

"Mr. Potter, I can make it so she's even tougher and stronger than your greatest suit."

Surprisingly, that statement gets a laugh out of the savant.

"Nah, sir. I make very good suits and Betsy's very little." He says with pride, though at which part of his statement I'm not entirely sure, but I can see his girlfriend roll her eyes fondly, though when they rest on me her apprehension is clearly visible.

Obviously, the little woman (and Melvin is correct, because Betsy is indeed very little, barely reaching her boyfriend's shoulder) is wondering whether I'm genuinly trying to help, or whether I'm just another asshole trying to take advantage of the blacksmith's unique mind.

Thing is, it's a bit of both.

I have got a bit of a soft-spot for people like Melvin ever since in my previous life I worked with the mentally disabled as part of a community project for my high school. I originally thought that I was going to help kids at a local preschool with arts and crafts, but instead I had unknowingly signed up for a charity organization that used the school's supplies in order to give the mentally handicapped a hobby.

Standing next to a tiny woman with Down's as she's proudly holding up the fully functional toy train she made in the same time it took me to hammer together a box (it wasn't even a good box. It was ugly as hell, and fell apart a few months later), remains one of the most heart-warming memories I have left from my previous life.

So yes, having Potter on my side could only work out to my benefit, but I wasn't going to exploit the savant for his skills.

Before I can try to convince her of that however, Burstein comes in and unknowingly does it for me.

"Oh Michael, is this the blacksmith you've told me about? How do you do, how do you do? Now, I really want your opinion on this. I came up with it myself, but I'm a scientist, not a blacksmith, and while the NYPD was enthusiastic enough to place an order for the next five years, they have requested that we make their new body armour a bit more… stylish." Burstein babbles as he comes walking towards us from his part of the warehouse, shaking Melvin's hand vigorously with one arm, and holding out a piece of treated bulletproof leather with the other.

Despite being caught off guard by the scientist's sudden and enthusiastic greeting, I can see Melvin's eyes snap towards the piece of leather, recognition showing on his face.

Figures a blacksmith in the business of making bullet/knife proof clothing for criminals would hear about the indestructible leather that was suddenly being provided to the police.

As both he and Burstein start walking back towards the scientist's team (all of which are looking on in amusement at their boss' sudden departure and excited air), talking animatedly as they walk, I turn towards Betsy, who is looking at her boyfriend with a fond look.

Feeling my gaze on her, she turns back towards me, and despite the fact that she needs to crane her neck in order to look me in the eyes, I can see the determination within her.

"Don't hurt him. He's not stupid, he's just… special. Talented. A lot of people have taken advantage of that." She says softly, though her voice doesn't waver as she keeps looking straight into my burning eyes.

Giving a gentle smile, I half-turn back towards my part of the workshop, holding my arm out in the universal gesture for 'after you'. As she walks deeper into my lair, I try to put her mind at ease.

"Don't worry, Miss Beatty. I meant what I said; I'm going to make you more durable than even Mr. Potter's hardest suit. That way, you will be completely safe from whoever would want to put him and his talents to their own uses, and instead he gets to work with an entire team of people who will appreciate him for his expertise."

"How are you planning on doing that Mr. McCole? Melvin wasn't boasting; he doesn't really know how. But his suits really are very durable."

"Well, Doctor Burstein, that excitable fellow you just met? He has discovered this procedure…"

"Look, I get that you made me, like, really smart and stuff, but do you even hear what you're asking? You want me beat Tony freakin' Stark in an innovation race!"

"C'mon Mason, between the Brain Booster I gave you and all the Wakanda-tech we have, I'm sure we can come up with something."

It had taken most of the previous day in order to both enhance Betsy as well as Melvin (the blacksmith refused to let his girlfriend do the procedure alone the moment I said that it could be a bit painful, and as I had been too tired of the day's events I had just said yes and preformed it on him first), and it was bright and early now as I sat in front of Mason, telling him that Hogarth needed something to market by tomorrow or Stark would try and take the lead.

The overweight man rested his head in one hand, various tools orbiting the bulky glove he wore on the other (after seeing my haptic interfaces and Sterns motion-reactive equipment, Mason refused to be left behind and made his tools respond to magnetic impulses from the glove, giving himself pseudo-telekinesis solely applicable to a small pre-prepared set of tools. I was honestly kind of scared to find out what Burstein would come up with in response).

"Right, right. Look, I don't doubt that there's something that we can make for the masses, transportation, telecommunication, or anything like that really. Between us and Wakanda we could make shit in those area's decades ahead of the competition. But, I can't see us building anything in those branches that Tony Stark either doesn't already have, or can't make himself in a couple of months."

Ignoring Mason's slight hero worship of the genius inventor for now, my mind instead snagged onto what the chubby man in front of me had just said, and I was suddenly reminded of a particular aircraft in the Wakandan arsenal, my mind immediately coming up with half a dozen viable designs in half that amount of seconds.

"-and then there's the fact that metallurgy is something that both our fathers taught us and-"

"Flying cars."

"Eh?"

Turning to look at the nonplussed scientist with a grin, I swipe a hand above his desk, making a haptic screen blink into life, and I start pulling up schematics, feeling like Tom Cruise from the Minority Report movie (and oh boy, was Tom Cruise popular in this universe. Probably due to the fact most actors from my own universe were actual superheroes here, so a lot more movie roles automatically went to him).

"What's every boy's dream Phineas?"

"To have sex with Lucy Lawless?"

I pause in my motions, my head slowly turning towards the scientist, who is now blushing furiously, rubbing his hands together as he resolutely looks everywhere in the busy workshop except me.

"What? I got really into Xena when I was younger, all right?"

Giving a tired sigh, I decided to just let it go, focusing on the schematics on the screen in front of me instead.

"No, Phineas, that wasn't what I meant. What I mean is this! Flying cars!"

And with those words I twist my hand, making the screen swing around the desk until its right in front of Mason's face, whose eyes widen as his Boosted brain immediately starts putting together my rough blueprints.

"This… yeah, this could work."

Looking over (or through, depending on who you ask) the screen at me, Mason let out a giddy laugh, mirrored by one of my own.

"So, flying cars huh?" he repeats to himself, his own hands coming up in order to mess with the blueprints, and I can't help but chuckle at the thought of the look on Coulson's face when we market this.

"Yeah. Flying cars."

It was one pm when I stepped outside of the workshop, intent on making my way towards the meeting with Cross as I had promised Hogarth I would do. However, what greeted me almost made me snort at the clear cliché.

A black limo, two bodyguards standing outside, and of course the moment I closed the door to the warehouse behind me, the door to the limo opened smoothly, though the interior was too dark to make out an occupant.

Letting out a deep chuckle, I place my hands in the pockets of my suit (sadly not a Potter design, since Melvin told me he'd need a lot more time to make something that fit someone as large as me, all the while looking at me with big puppy eyes).

"So, I'm guessing that this is the part where I give a dramatic sigh and get inside, only to meet with a shady backer of some kind of organization?"

Neither guard so much as twitches at my jest, though the one on the right inclines his head somewhat.

"Ideally, yes." He says dryly, prompting another laugh from me.

Because honestly, why should I be afraid of these goons standing next to their limo, when they barely even reached my chin and they had nothing that could so much as scratch me, whereas I could literally pick the car up and chuck it down the street?

"And what if I decide that I don't want to do that?" I ask with a leisurely smile, but it's quickly wiped from my face because of the familiar croaking voice coming from inside the shadowy depths of the interior.

"If you decide to pursue such a foolish action, then my colleagues will be quite… cross with you. You have shown the world that you are strong, Mr. McCole. But are you also immune to the deadly edge of a blade, hidden in the shadows of the night?"

'Yes, actually, but I'm not going to just tell you that. Let's wait and see the look on your face when your sudden but inevitable betrayal fails, because instead of cutting off my head, all you'll succeed in is breaking your sword on my skin.' I think to myself, though I let none of my thoughts show on my face as I approach the limo with slow, measured steps, acting the part of a cowed business man as I work my way inside the vehicle.

While I almost need to bend myself in half in order to fit through the door (God I miss Oliver and his easily accessible cabin), the unparalleled agility granted to me by the Hearth shaped Herb allows me to pull it off smoothly (I hope). As my eyes almost immediately adjust to the dimness of the interior, my eyes fall on the person who had spoken, and my suspicions are confirmed.

'Hello Madame Gao.' I think to myself, though I remain silent, my face not even showing a hint of surprise at seeing an old-shrivelled up lady in ratty clothing sitting in the back of an expensive looking limo, which causes her eyes to narrow in suspicion.

Not saying a further word, the evil old bat of a woman extends a gnarled hand, offering me a fancy looking phone which I take with only the barest of hesitation. Even if they filled it with explosives, all it would result in would be a ringing in my ear for a few minutes.

I almost expect the voice before I hear it.

"Ah, hello Mr. McCole, how nice of you to take my call." Alexandra Reid murmurs through the phone in a definitely amused tone of voice, though I notice the barely constrained hunger as well.

Time almost seems to slow down to a crawl as I start buying time, my craziest scheme yet starting to from in my mind.

"Well, from the looks of it, I didn't have much choice. Unfortunately I actually have an appointment, so-"

"-oh yes, of course. With Darren Cross of Pym Technologies, correct? Not to worry, my chauffeur is taking you there presently. That should give us enough time to talk."

The conversation is dim, merely background noise to the whirlwind that are my thoughts as I rapidly start weighing pros and cons, trying to calculate how my answers are going to end up impacting the future.

"Very well. Who am I talking with, actually?"

"Oh, I find names so… constricting don't you think. I'd much rather talk with you on far more intriguing manners. Such as just what it is you have done to one Jeri Hogarth, or the various cripples in your employ that are now walking around, healthy as can be." she says in a voice that's clearly meant to intimidate me, but I'm only half listening as I keep trying to look at my impromptu scheme from all possible angles.

I could pull it off. Maybe. With enormous amounts of luck. The problem was that the plan just reeked of 'this is so crazy, it just might work!' which didn't exactly fill me with trust, as such an exclamation is usually followed by a harrowing escape, only to meet the Final Big Bad.

And considering I'm on the phone with Alexandra Reid, I'm really not interested in seeing who the narrative will shove forwards as the Final Big Bad in the case I go through with my crazy idea.

On the other hand (ha! Get it?) if this works out… the benefits would be incalculable, just as the possible fall-out could be.

Screw it, new Step 12: pit the Hand against one of my greatest enemies.

"Oh, that? It's a miracle what a proper diet and regular visits to the Spa can do for you. No, with me it's rather the reverse of your opinion: I'm very interested in names. I feel they can tell us so much about a person. Wouldn't you agree, Alexandra?"

Silence greets me from the other end of the phone as I see Madame Gao's eyes open wide in shock.

"How do you know that name?" the leader of the Hand asks in a seemingly calm voice, but her rage is large enough it almost feels like it's physically bursting from the phone in order to fill the limo.

"Allow me to relay to you what your associate told me in order to get me into this tin-can of a vehicle, and let's see if you can figure it out from there, hmm? You see, Madame Gao over here" (que shocked look and white knuckles gripping a cane with more strength than a decrepit old lady has any right to) "implicitly threatened to cut off my head if I didn't comply, and I honestly thought this was rather funny."

"And what, exactly, makes the threat of decapitation so funnyto you?" Alexandra seethed through the phone.

And now, for the finale of my masterclass of acting:

"Because, my dear, when you cut off one head, two more shall rise." I hiss through the phone, and I can see the exact moment where Madame Gao realizes that she has made a grave mistake, trying to put pressure on me.

Though because of the wrong reasons of course.

It's silent on the other end of the line, so I continue talking, trying my hardest to sell the illusion, since I need the Hand to believe completely and utterly in the lie I'm spinning here.

"Your organization is old, Alexandra, older than mine. But we have grown. Both in number and with the times, which cannot be said of you and your associates. Oh you all hold great power, I will not be so crass as to deny that, but what of your subordinates? Just how assured are you that they are truly loyal to you? You are mistaken if you think that we are powerless, Alexandra. The world has changed, and we with it and now it is ours, ripe for the taking. So skip these foolish attempts at intimidation as if I was some mere airheaded business man and tell me what it is you seek."

For a few moments more, there's only utter silence on her end of the line, before I can almost hear her literally grinding her teeth.

"The Rejuvenation serum you have. I want it."

"No."

Sheer rage blasts through the phone again, but to her credit, there's hardly a waver in Alexandra's voice, even though I just flat-out told her I would keep the one thing from her that had a chance of stopping her from dying without resorting to the Elixir.

"I'd be willing to pay-"

"No. The serum is not for sale."

"Listen here you-!"

"No, you listen! For over a century we have looked up to the Hand because they did not need to fear Death. And we too strived to achieve that same level of power, and now, after decades of sacrifice, you expect us to give it up to you?! Hydra will never share the secrets it has uncovered about the human body!" I say in a harsh whisper, playing up my anger, hoping to bait the desperate Alexandra into making an error in judgement.

"You should take care of how you speak, Mr. McCole. Your organization may have found a way to conquer death, but youcan still die. What shall you do when I tear your secret society down around your ears until nothing but rubble remains? Will you remain as obstinate as you are now?" she hisses, and it takes all of my willpower to keep a smile off my face in order to not tip off Madame Gao, who is still staring at me with wide surprised eyes.

"Truly your long life has made you arrogant beyond your wisdom, Alexandra. Do you really think you have the power to bring us down? We have been hiding, growing for seventy years, and we will not be cowed-"

"I have grown this organization for seven hundred years! You think you can stand against me?! Insult me?! Your organization is no mighty Hydra, I have seen such beasts before they became myth and legend and you are an insult to the very name! Rats, that is what you are, filth, hiding in the shadows and licking their wounds! Tell me something, Mr. McCole, how long do you think your organization can remain in hiding, when suddenly the world knows of its continued existence?"

Bad part of me doing this?

There's a chance of Alexandra getting the public to believe I am a Neo-Nazi.

The good part of me doing this?

The actual Neo-Nazi's are gonna be pissed, and they probably won't take to kindly to someone exposing their existence, even if they pointed at the wrong person.

Honestly, all I'm hoping for here is that the Hand and Hydra end up taking each other out, though I'm very well aware of how this might blow up in my face, and reflect on the company.

Still, with the alternative being the Hand constantly trying to lean on me to do their bidding, then I honestly prefer this. I absolutely refuse to go down the same road that Harold Meachum did about 7 years ago now, even if actually killing me will turn out to be a lot harder, if not completely impossible. On the other hand, they know magic from Kun Lun, so they're probably capable of finding a way. 'Sides, I'm already too far gone to back off now, so I try to reply in the haughtiest, most arrogant voice I can manage.

"I'd like to see you try, Alexandra. But I should warn you: we are everywhere. We could be everyone. And if you manage to cut one of us down, then two more shall take their place."

And before she can respond, I crush the phone effortlessly in my large hand, and instead focus all of my attention on Madame Gao, who has yet to even move ever since she handed me the phone.

"Now then, I think this is my stop."

A quick glance showed me that we were nowhere near Pym Technologies, but in a stroke of genius a few weeks back I had all Brain Boosted individuals spend an entire day on Google Street View, literally memorizing every road in New York.

We were now some of the very few people here that just couldn't get lost.

I'd be fine.

Madame Gao gave me a long considering glance, before giving a slow nod.

"Yes. Indeed it is."

And with those words, she tapped the floor of the limo twice, which came to an abrupt halt. Not bothering to look back, I folded my way out of the car, and began running in the direction of Pym Technologies.

I had a deal to make. That uber-useful goo-gun just wasn't going to find its way into my arsenal on its own, and Darren Cross could do with a little boost to his intellect.

He'd be a lot easier to manipulate than Hank Pym into making Pym Particles for me, once he actually figures out how to make them that is.

But first…

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hey Michael, I hadn't expected you to call so soon? I thought you were on your way to a meeting with that Cross guy, at Pym's?"

"Yeah, about that… listen, I may have done something stupid…"

A sigh is my only answer, before he responds in a weary voice.

"Right, just how stupid are we talking about this time? Your general 'let me just inject myself with these untested serums!' kinda stupid, or big time, like 'hey Sterns, lace my bones with metal, even though that is physically impossible to do!' kinda stupid?"

"You're never going to let the bone thing go, are you?"

"Not on your life. Now, what did you do?"

"… I might have pissed of an ancient shadow organization by pretending to be part of another ancient shadow organization, which means they'll either take out each other, or we end up dead."

"..."

"Sterns?"

"HOW? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY MAKE A WORSE DECISION THAN THE BONE THING?"

"Hey, it might work out!"

"Michael, I just want you to know, that…"

"What?"

"… when we're all dying slow, agonizing deaths, I'll be blaming you."

"Oh come on! It won't turn out that bad!"

"Yeah, definitely blaming you."

Fun Fact: Jim Shooter, Marvel's editor-in-chief in the '80s, bought the idea for Spider-Man's black costume from a fan for $220, and gave the fan a shot at writing the comic, though that didn't work out. The black costume was introduced as an alien "symbiote" and eventually became one of Spider-Man's most famous villains, Venom.