Part 22

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A couple of hours later we found ourselves at Carrot-top's house, but the taxi driver didn't hurry to drive us away, and the meter was working properly, so what complaints? After hugging for a couple of minutes we left the taxi, but I told the Indian to wait, because I wouldn't walk across the city to get my bike, would I? As I walked the girl to the porch, I could read in her eyes the desire not to let go of my hand. With a thoughtful hum, I took her in my arms as lightly as if she were nothing, and glanced at the flimsy door, telling her that if you didn't open it, I would have to do it, even if it was with my foot. At once Carrot began to squirm and rummage in all her pockets for the keys. So soon we were at her house. The TV was running softly in the hall, obviously with some show on in the background. Nodding toward the first floor, as if afraid to say anything too much, she looked thoughtfully into my eyes, and I smiled understandingly into hers.

When I silently went up to the first floor and got into the girls' bedroom with Carrot's help, I saw a lot of posters with drawn characters and some smarmy Asians. Apparently, these guys were from the standard boy bands. With an expressive hum, I noticed the cute wallpaper that barely peeked out from under the posters. Apparently, that's Auntie Anne's taste, and it's not to Mary Jane's liking.

- This wallpaper is annoying... - our Valkyrie confirmed my thoughts aggressively.

- It's cosy,' I said.

- In some places. - the girl added her five cents. - Can you still let me go? - She asked innocently, still clinging to my neck. I just nodded and gently laid her down on the snow-white cot as if she were a doll.

I stood still for a second, savouring the pleasing shapes and aesthetics of our 'goddess' body. I'm not supposed to fall in love so trivially, am I? I am a mother spider, after all. However, this does not prevent me at all from enjoying the fair sex and 'walking' my 'suit' in the company of such lovely misses followed by a pleasant 'continuation'. I wonder what she is thinking? After all, I really did not plan a serious relationship. And now freedom is more important to me than any ephemeral love.

And those words.

It's all very intriguing. But where it goes from here is a mystery even to me. Well, on the other hand, there's nothing wrong with it, just a touch of curiosity, whose spark always burns in my heart. I even remembered one article where it is mentioned that partnership increases the average life expectancy by 5-6 years, so there are advantages in everything. But I'm not planning something that drastic just yet.

- Maybe you'll stay after all. - Carrot-top asked innocently.

- I'm sorry, sunshine. - I smiled warmly, looking into those eyes, full of such sincere hope, and saw it slowly fading away. - I need to get my bike, because, you know, it's not clear whether it survived, and if it did, I need to get there before the looters. Don't be sad,' I continued, gently touching her pinkish cheek. - But what prevents us from crossing again over a glass of tasty morsel and crunching draaniki? - With a final wink, I left without saying goodbye, like a true Englishman. Or did it say 'leave in English'? I don't care.

Waving to the already sleepy taxi driver who was patiently waiting for me, I smiled again, banishing all sad thoughts and unhealthy thoughts. Seeing me, the Hindu immediately perked up and sipped something from a thermos. As I settled down in the front seat, I noticed a redhead that was visible from the window. Waving goodbye to the girl, I nodded to the taxi driver, and we drove off. The rain had only hit a small part of the city, but the closer we got to the rendezvous point, the more we saw the destruction, the mangled bodies, and the battered cars left over from the battle of the two giants.

- What a horror...' said the boy. - I thought New York was a peaceful place when I moved here. - I smiled at his joke and didn't say anything. - But I was wrong. There's the overly chatty mercenary calling for a taxi, or the mutants who don't take the underground or bus for certain reasons. And I'm not even talking about the various battles. The Land of Opportunity, they said... - the taxi driver kept talking, trying to distract himself from the horror going on in the streets of the city.

And there was a lot to see there: someone was already removing jewellery from the mutilated bodies and 'cleaning' the wallets of the dead. Even if there were not so many looters yet, their ranks were growing fast. There were no police, rescuers or local vigilantes in sight, so the 'people' were already starting to loot and take out shops. A savage society, but what else can you expect from a country of criminals and slaves?

I may be labelling it as radical, but there is plenty of looting, pillaging, and outright savagery on the streets without it. It's only a measly rainstorm, not a hurricane. Maybe this city doesn't need heroes, but punishers? After all, uncontrolled chaos is a staircase, or rather an escalator, to the abyss, which, apparently, we have already deserved. And remembering the same Shakespeare with his 'The Tempest', there is something in it. 'Hell is empty! All the devils are here!' and who can argue with that? I may be wrong, but I am not happy to see the world in flames through the prism of pain that devours people's souls from within, because their nature can create, not give only chaos to the world.

Perhaps only now I understood Creed, his message and his philosophy of war. After all, people do not want to change, just give them an excuse and lure them like a pony with 'sugar', and everywhere will burst into flames of anarchism, pogroms, looting. So the 'heroes' only waste their time on endless fiddling, but just scare them, and these 'cattle' will pussyfoot away. But no, we play humanism and get on our knees, as if apologising for not giving them everything. Time after time after time. Give them an excuse, because they don't care if it's a hurricane, acid rain or war, it's just an excuse to get rich.

In the distance I heard a generous burst of gunfire. Looking closer, I saw a concrete box with a cross next to it. Carefully approaching in the right direction, we saw a bishop, who had a massive kind of cassock over his cassock, and in his hands, apparently, an AK-308 under 7.62×51mm NATO, otherwise it is difficult to explain the bloodbath that he arranged. There were marginal-looking people there as well as the lizardmen I knew. A preacher with a machine gun arranged for everyone to meet the creator. The most amazing thing was that this 'biker' was accompanied by a slightly insane pastor who was chanting 'Deus vult' and at the same time skilfully knocking out the lizards with one accurate shot, using his AR15 M5FL with good optics in a really masterful way.

- God,' the bloke suddenly stretched out. - Even Marseilles wasn't this dangerous, and it's the bloody criminal capital of the world. - The taxi driver smiled strainedly. - What is this world coming to. The police are powerless, and these so-called 'heroes', who ruin our city at every opportunity, are wandering around when they are needed to prevent the collapse of the city. - the Hindu continued abruptly.

- You're right. Anarchy and villains that are always trying to match their strength with idiots like themselves. It's not going to lead to anything good, chaos has already permeated every street in our city, and something has to be done about it. - I said confidently, engaging in another conversation to pass the time. I used to talk about eternal things with taxi drivers. And no psychologist is needed - it's a similar effect when talking in the kitchen in the morning, slightly tipsy.

- What is chaos when it's like this? Innocent people dying for nothing. What are we in for? All that's missing is an alien invasion or the beginning of the apocalypse, with their Ragnarok and the coming of the gods, it's not long before we go crazy. - The Hindu smiled nervously. - I know a guy who takes orders for supers for money, though. This chatty mercenary will kill anyone, and on friendship he'll do it for free. - continued the cabbie. - I don't know about the gods, but some mutants and mercenaries he can do it for free. Can I have your number? And, if you have enough money, you can always order any arrogant scum. - the kid grinned predatorily and handed me a business card made of the cheapest paper. Apparently, our mercenary is frugal or stingy as hell.

- What's with the gaudy business name? Or wait. He calls himself that? - After studying the business card and memorising the number, I just hummed. - Thanks for the number, if anything, I know who to call. - Smiling, so as not to offend the guy, I continued to contemplate the horrors going on in the street.

Various freaks, feeling the freedom and impunity, were rampaging about. Three homeless-looking hobos were stabbing almost synchronously with small hunting knives and large screwdrivers at the torso of a man dressed as a huge canary, who apparently didn't realise that today was not a good time for farce. As I approached my bike, there was more and more destruction, as well as more mangled bodies on the roadside. The ones that were a little more decent were already being gutted by looters of all sorts. I saw a man, still alive, with a shabby face and a burnt hand, trying to fight off two vagrants, and not letting them get a hold of him. He was practically exhausted, but he was still trying to kick his attacker.

- Slow down for a minute. - I asked the taxi driver. - Let's help the man and drive on, or they'll really cut him down soon. - I immediately explained my position to the thoughtfully nodding Indian, who, just in case, reached into the seat and pulled out an old AKS-74u.

- Just in case. - shrugged his shoulders.

Humming at the guy's caution, I silently headed towards the screaming man, whose voice, however, was inaudible in the cacophony of shouting, firing and endless acts of violence. I kicked the shin of the first tramp, who immediately began to fall, and came close to the second and without any emotion snapped his neck like a chicken. The first one had already started to rise, and his hand reached for the inside pocket of his crappy coat. But I was quicker, and a powerful kick on the body knocked the spirit out of him. Soon the hand with the gun appeared from the pocket. Grinning, I crushed the bastard's skull with the toe of my boot.

Looking closer, I saw an Ed Brown Executive Carry that clearly didn't belong to this tramp. Silently taking the trophy, I winked at the disfigured man and held out my hand, wanting to help. Fearfully accepting the help, he whispered his gratitude in a hoarse whisper. When four more looters saw the brightly coloured taxi that was beckoning to them like a bull, I quickly readied my weapon and fired five aimed shots, killing another looter with a control shot to the head.

- What the fuck are you doing? - The stranger hissed, shrugged his shoulders and walked away, and after a moment he realised that he was alone with the street again and waddled back to the car. - Wait for me.

- We saved his life, so he's on his own from here. Let's go. - After explaining the situation to the Indian, I put the gun in my pocket, but he just nodded and carefully put the machine gun back, humming thoughtfully.

Soon we reached the ruined restaurant and headed even further away. I smiled as I spotted my bike, which had apparently survived only by a miracle in the covered car park. After quickly asking the taxi driver about the possibility of a direct transfer, and noticing the Hindu's smile, I realised that something was amiss. And where have you ever seen a Galician bank? And the name was extremely curious, 'Eu roubou todo e enviado a todos para foder'. Who would call a bank that? None of that mattered, though. After paying the taxi driver, I received another business card from him. This time it had the taxi driver's number, and the card looked more solid than the last one.

- Thanks for the interesting conversation and for covering it. I hope to see you under more favourable circumstances next time, Dopinder. - With an almost friendly smile at the guy, I headed for the bike.

- Likewise. - I could hear it in my back. With a final nod to the Indian, I started checking my beast.

Surprisingly, this part of the neighbourhood was the least affected, so my faithful steed remained intact. Leaving the place by detours and alleys so that the looters don't damage my bike, I reached home. Home is a nice home, it's always warm and cosy, but first I had to get the bike back to the 'basement'. After parking and throwing my clothes in the wash, I put my work clothes back on and started fiddling with the suit. Once again checking all the systems, I found out what could be strengthened and reinforced, so I had to place a new order, stretching the delivery time. But now my car will be stronger, and maybe even more reliable than a tank, because who knew we could find such curiously rare alloys.

Enjoying the aggressive look of the 'armour', I was silently rejoicing, because now the suit did not resemble the cheap knockoff that Rhino wore, and was much more deadly than ever. So now, if I wanted to, I could cause a spectacular massacre in the centre of the city, and not many people would be able to stop me. Or at least destroy me immediately. I'm not a terrorist, I'm just a humble scientist who sometimes gets carried away and tests his toys in the city. On the other hand, I'm not destroying it to the ground like those pompous heroes, am I? So it's not that big of a deal, so what if I robbed a mugger and did a little mischief?

Thinking about whether I should put the 'Spider' mark on my armour, I grinned wryly, putting the thought aside for later. And who would understand the meaning of my joke but me? However, this does not prevent me from having my own brand, I was planning to blog, right? Yes, and the pictures in insta will be more pathos, but first it's worth to close the anonymity issue and finish creating a 'mask' with a tactical interface. I'll take the nickname 'Not a Hero' and promote what I'm curious about. The main thing is not to sit down for all kinds of extremist ideas, or in this country with it is softer, and as long as I do not arrange a massacre, I can sleep well? We'll figure it out, but again, it's an idea for later, and there's still so much to do.

Made a couple of new orders to various workshops that don't ask questions. I will have to get a composite order on the type of protective glasses made of bulletproof glass with the ability to display information on them and full integration into the helmet. The helmet itself should be made on the basis of a motorbike helmet, and for the first time will do, because the main feature of this order in ultra-modern polymers that hold the bullet. The main thing is not to test fate and do not get into the fray, but some kind of defence is still there. I wonder why these research institutes from Russia do not receive proper funding and people have to work in the sphere of 'grey' services? But it's their choice, and I only care about the result.

Well, for the first time you can really wear a regular balaclava, the main thing is not to catch a random headshot, and so everything looks not so bad. When I was done with all my chores and finally free, I threw my clothes in the dryer and the gun in the armoury, not forgetting to disassemble and clean it, and slowly went to the shower.

After changing into clean clothes, I left my 'basement' and, having slammed the bike for the last time, headed towards the underground. I didn't want to go through dungeons and kill lizards again, so I opted for public transport. Enjoying the music from my playlist and the deserted streets, I moved towards home, getting high on the breeze and the upbeat tracks in my headphones. Soon the house showed up, sweet home.

A black Toyotas Tundra threateningly took up space outside the house, but I immediately remembered that May sometimes likes to leave her 'baby' to get some air. Or maybe she'd just run out of energy and left the car at the house. I must admit, I hadn't seen that in a long time, and I'd forgotten all about it. I wondered what had happened there. I thoughtfully put my headphones in my pocket and went home. The familiar cosiness gave me peace and contemplative serenity.

It's a nice house, you can live and relax, but it's not that simple. After wandering around the house for a while, I found Mei snoozing sweetly on our sofa. Gently taking her in my arms, I carried her to the bedroom for the umpteenth time.

After tucking Mei in, I went back to the kitchen. Silently, I studied the empty fridge, but only gave a very expressive hum. After googling possible recipes and figuring out what I had and what I didn't, I leisurely started making Jambalaya, having bought the ingredients that were missing from the same Vietnamese shop. Surprisingly, the smoked sausages with tomato and peppers were delicious, and other herbs to taste. Leaving half of it for May, I sipped my newly brewed coffee. I couldn't help it, because I loved it so much.

Still meditating thoughtfully with a cup of coffee in my hands, I wondered what to do. Connors had gone on sick leave and I hadn't heard a word about him, and Von Doom needed at least a recommendation from Osborne, and it was too early. We could, of course, take apart that reactor that was in the Rhino suit and bring it to life, or finally deal with that lizard crap. We also need to remember that monster's DNA. But I don't have the technology to grow bodies yet, and experimenting on humans is fraught with the risk of creating another such abomination. So there's enough work to do, and, again, the suit needs to be brought up to date, there's still so much work to be done.

The armour installation alone is worth it. I wonder if there's enough power to power such a heavy toy. Well, tank armour isn't the worst choice. And the system was designed for an upgrade, even if it wasn't that massive. So next time a machine gun won't do anything to me, and it's a bit difficult to get something more serious in our realities. And with that kind of firepower, I'd rather destroy anyone who tries. However, the system of defence against missiles is also worth considering, and it won't be superfluous, because I don't know where the hell I'll end up.

Finishing my coffee, I met the dawn, which lazily crept up to the horizon, once again defeating the eternal darkness. Sighing, I thoughtfully studied the empty cup and wondered if I should have another latte. Sometimes contemplation is a necessary thing, because you don't always have the opportunity to sit down and think about what you want and come to an inner agreement with yourself. No fuss, no music, no people, just you and your thoughts. I wonder if this is how monks realise their Zen. Meditating and improving their minds time after time? It smells like madness. But to each his own, because, as a Roman proverb says? Repetition is the mother of learning and a refuge for the lazy.

However, there may be something in all this, but is it possible to realise enlightenment in this way? That's another question...

I was caught in these strange thoughts by the warmly smiling Mei, who was studying my frozen figure with an extreme degree of curiosity and mischief. Apparently tired of watching, she gracefully settled into a nearby chair.

- What's that delicious smell? Can I buy you a drink? - she shot her eyes at my now-empty cup of coffee with an obvious hint.

- Jambalaya. - I said on automatic and started making us a refreshing Americano.

- Peter, did you sleep at all? - May looked at me suspiciously, but she didn't refuse the coffee. - What a curious name. And why did you suddenly decide to cook something so exotic? I'm really curious. - she smiled again.

- A common dish for Creole cuisine. - I copy the smile back. - Why is it? It's much simpler than it looks, May. - I deftly opened the fridge, shocking May with its emptiness.

- Oops,' she said. - I always forget that we always run out of food after our minimarathons. Didn't keep track this time. - A slightly sad smile graced her face.

- The important thing is that I took care of it, so bon appetit. - I smiled warmly, looking into those slightly sleepy eyes.

- You're a miracle,' May said, taking a sip from her coffee cup.

- That's exactly why you put up with me...' he smiled back at her, slightly embarrassed.

- More for the pretty eyes,' May immediately winked at me.

Appreciating the compliment, I just nodded and, with a sweet smile on my lips, pulled the last of the biscuits out of the kitchen cabinet. Coffee without something tasty is sad and sometimes leads to heartburn, and we don't want that, do we? She said nothing and just smiled enigmatically, amused by my sweet concern. Apparently, the old me was much less caring. But it didn't matter now.

After taking another sip and a bite of the biscuit, the happy Mei went on with the main course, for the Jambalaya did look delicious, and the way it smelled. I think I'm going to love cooking for a while, because such sincere emotion in exchange for some food is just a small thing. I wonder if the alchemists of antiquity felt the same way at the moment of grandiose triumph and universal recognition? After all, what is cooking? A set of different ingredients, a little time and a piece of yourself that you put into the dish. Isn't that magic?

- Oh, my God. This is delicious. - May said in surprise after a long pause, pulling me out of the stream of thought. - I'll text you the recipe later,' she smiled at me. - How was your date with MJ? If Anna's caustic comments were to be believed, you should be married by now, like any self-respecting gentleman. - May laughed, noticing the confusion on my face. - Don't worry, the Parkers don't betray their own,' she laughed again. - And if anything, we'll hide you in Louisiana with Cousin Alessandro. You help him make meth and moonshine, and he'll give you one of his shotguns. - It was all said with such a serious look that I almost believed it. - So how was the party? - May asked, smiling again.

- Not bad. You know, cuddles and movies and a light snack of Pakistani food and a moderately pleasant dialogue about everything. You know me, don't you? - I smiled innocently and got only a look and a characteristic 'Hmph' in response, which apparently expressed doubt in my words.

- I'm glad that you've finally dispersed and rested from your eternal thoughts, which do not give you rest. So now we can move on to something more important than Sunday breakfast. - May smiled and quickly turned to business, as if there had just been no teenage problems. - Like I said, Osborne will take the gold. That goblin would kill himself for an extra cent, and we're offering him more than a penny. Norman himself may be a man of honour and do generous things, but you and I both know he doesn't like a penny too much. - she winked at me again. - So the hardest thing was to convince Osborne that it was profitable and necessary, because he hadn't planned such a huge expenditure. But the desire to make a splash in the eyes of his competitors and partners was stronger than his frugality. As you see, Peter, the main thing here is to be able to present the information you need, and then the person will come with an offer. So I have an appointment today where we'll bargain with Osborne for what he thinks is a discount from the Chinese partners. - her smile got a little more predatory. - Would you like to take a ride up to Ozcorp and see how I work? - Mei innocently asked a slightly stunned me.

- That would be very educational,' I replied neutrally, trying to digest what I'd heard.

- Usually you always say no, so what's different this time? - she asked curiously.

- Well, you know, something I doubt that before we discussed how to realise not too 'pure' gold. - With an expressive hum in response I immediately continued. - And anyway, when will I ever see someone who has managed to get Norman Osborne's money and still walk away with a profit? Aunty, you really are a criminal genius. - As I lowered my head respectfully, I heard her resounding laughter.

- Whatever you say,' she said with a downward smile on her face. - Thank you for breakfast,' she kissed me gently and gracefully headed off to change, silently placing the keys to the Tundra in my hands.

Pensively leaving the house, I was once again confronted with this road monster. This pickup was for off-roading, but not for business meetings. May, however, liked to break patterns, and she could do it pretty damn spectacularly. Climbing into the cabin, I appreciated the coolness and comfortable leather seats, as well as the multimedia system. Digging into the controls, I quietly switched on the YouTube channel with the news.

- Acid rain has caused chaos in the affected areas of our city. - J. Jonah Jameson's familiar voice spoke calmly, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was barely hiding his anger. - Police departments in the affected areas were looted, as were many other facilities of social and economic importance. The looters who have been armed have lost their fear. - the newscaster said, holding back his rage. - The National Guard's hastily deployed forces had failed miserably, and more weapons had fallen into the hands of the anarchists. - Jameson continued glumly, but a moment later he touched his earpiece and began to listen to something.

- Breaking news. The civic organisation 'Druzhina' has put its volunteers on the streets of the city and they are heading to the areas affected by the 'rain'. And now live on the scene. - The announcer said excitedly.

The screen went out abruptly and the camera moved to another part of the city, where a lanky anchor in a bulletproof vest and helmet was wrinkling his nose at the aroma of burning tyres, cars and burnt buildings. In the background, some vicious dogs were nibbling on a bone that looked remotely human. To the side of the boy stood a powerful figure in a leather jacket with a cigarette in his teeth. It was none other than the master, a predatory grin I recognised everywhere.

- Mr Creed, how can you comment on these events and why your squad is holding the central entrance to the underground, not letting all the citizens through? - The lanky man asked his questions calmly. After finishing his cigarette, the master answered.

- We've come here to keep all this filth out before they scatter to their holes and cubbyholes. That's why our vigilantes are protecting all the transport hubs that connect these districts with other districts. We will stand to the death until our main forces arrive, and then we will clean up all this filth, correcting the mistake of the authorities and the National Guard. - Creed was as tough as ever, and immediately fired a generous line from his RPK-16 into the darkness, where a fierce roar was immediately heard, followed a moment later by a crowd of lizards, which, apparently, also took an active part in the looting and pillaging.

- Eve, light the fire,' the master said laconically, and a VOG charge was immediately fired into the dense crowd of lizards. There was silence for a couple of seconds, but after that the street was filled again with inhuman roars and selective mate in different languages. However, it did not last long. Soon gunshots and new voices were heard, followed by a firefight. But as the smog from burnt tyres covered almost the whole sky, it was not clear who was shooting with whom.

- And what do you say about the massacre that your 'humanitarian' organisation carried out in the quarter of the Lisamericans? - The journalist was still calmly broadcasting, ignoring another positional fight.

- So that's what you call those freaks now? You know what, why don't you go interview them yourself? Dex, get the machine gun ready. The looters are coming, I'm telling you. - Creed grinned and kicked the journo off to interview the survivors. However, the cameraman was not at all eager to move towards the 'lizamericans' and quietly filmed from a distance, prudently remaining behind the fortifications of the vigilantes.

Switching on the flash on his phone, the lanky man rushed forward as if he had never had an instinct for self-preservation. Stepping squeamishly over someone's remains and scales, he alighted and the tattered bodies of various freaks, homeless and marauders. When he came across a lizard whose scales were sapphire-coloured, he smiled and walked straight towards the two-metre tall monster as if nothing had happened. A moment later the camera shifted its lens back to Creed, who was thoughtfully smoking another cheap cigarette. Shrugging his shoulders, the master nodded towards the presenter and continued to load the drum. The journalist tried to ask the monster something, but he didn't seem to understand him and simply took a quarter of the lanky man's body as a snack. The shocked guy looked at the hand with the microphone clamped in it with astonishment and shifted his gaze to the other hand, which the lizard had taken off along with a solid piece of his side. With a rumbling roar, the 'lizamerican' simply threw the body of the disconnected host on his shoulder and disappeared, leaving behind him only the light from the flash of the phone.

- Eva, get the thermobaric ones ready. - growled the master, finishing his cigarette. - Maybe the tough guy will come to us. - Putting out the cigarette butt with the toe of his army boot, Creed grabbed the machine gun and fired another burst into the darkness that filled the neighbourhood because of the smog.

Another second, and frightened looters, vandals, and just plain marginalised hobos and hobos were coming out of every crevice, chased by something frightening. After a long moment, machine guns rattled, which literally mowed down the ranks of 'anarchists'. Having quickly explained that only death awaited them, people quickly dispersed along the street and began to hide in houses and surviving or not completely burned shops and shops. From time to time, the anarchists still shot back at the lizards and Creed's squad of vigilantes, but to no avail. Soon a new wave of lizards emerged from the darkness, now led by five sapphire-haired big men.

- Eve...' Creed bellowed again, and ten seconds later the whole place was ablaze with fire, and the live feed was cut off by the master's menacing roar. - Suck it soooo...

For a couple of seconds, staring blankly at the 'Temporary technical interruption' sign that hypnotised me from the screen, I chuckled. And it always does. At the most interesting point. Apparently, the damn hosting censors don't allow that, or someone complained.

Looks like the teacher's having a hell of a good time, and I must have got out in time, or I'd have had to take part in the mad slaughter, and I've got plans. Soon May showed up. She was especially charming today, in an airy white dress that looked a little like a wedding dress, but it was not, and it emphasised the curves of her well-trained body. Cute glasses, on the contrary, added a touch of charm and a little innocence. I could see now how she was planning to bargain, and it was a damn dirty move, because I was starting to look at her, let alone Osborne.

- You look great, May. - I said, smiling sincerely. Soon I could smell the subtle notes of her pleasant perfume.

- I know,' she smiled wryly and just nodded. - I usually wear more casual clothes, but today I had a meeting with 'business' partners from China. Do you think they'll fall for it? Because the meeting was yesterday and it wasn't with partners, it was with a Chinese restaurant, even though we do do 'business' with them sometimes. Their meat is divine, by the way. I'll have to treat you to some sometime, so what do you think? - May gave me a thoughtful look.

- If you don't take anyone to a business meeting with your 'partners,' it'll be fine, because their minds will be on something else, so it should work. - When I got a smile in return, I continued. - Someone taught me not to lie. And what do we see? - I grinned and saw the cheeks turn slightly red.

- It's just manipulation of information,' the voice of our architect calmly answered me. - Business is nothing but a constant battle, whether it's for capital, human potential, or a certain land that you need so badly. All I do is make the plans and see that they're carried out. And if the client wants, we'll decorate his headquarters with exclusive marble and gold. The only question is that the client doesn't always know what he wants, and that's why we have to help him with the 'right' choice. - Having appreciated her 'mask' of an overbearing manager, I hummed approvingly.

- That was damn powerful,' I said admiringly. - It's a blessing that you're good at separating work and home. - I smiled back at her as I watched her mask of absolute power and total control crumble.

- As my mentor said: mimic or you'll be eaten by your competitors in a moment of weakness. - May smiled sadly and after a moment of silence, she started the car.

Switching on the radio with mischievous music, we drove towards Ozcorp. Deftly driving the Toyota, she pulled out her phone and, plugging in a headset, started dialling someone. Soon Norman Osborne himself was on the line.

- May? - he said in surprise.

- Hello, Norm. I'm sorry I'm early. It's about our case. Remember those Chinese and the cheap gold? - she got right to the point.

- Yes, of course. - Osborne was instantly chipper. - Did you manage to persuade them not to go to the European markets? - he continued with interest. - If everything works out, you'll get a bonus, because I'm very intrigued by your project,' he smiled even through the headset.

- Exactly. The only thing left to discuss is the price and my percentage of the deal. So I'll be at your place in Ozcorp soon. And yes, Norm, prepare something more interesting than a bonus. We may be friends, but you know how things work. For instance, the Sephardim can give just as much, if not more. So think, Norm. - I watched May negotiate with amazement, I was impressed.

- All right, I'm on my way. - said Osborne with a chuckle.

- You know how to intrigue. By the way, is it okay that we're going to a business meeting in a pickup truck?

- Everyone's used to my baby, and it's the last thing Ben bought, so I don't want to change it. You know, she's like a reminder that love hurts, and that sometimes you just have to accept that some people can only be in your heart and not in your life. - A sad smile once again graced her countenance.

Having fallen silent, I was habitually immersed in thought. What is the power of love? Is it just chemistry? Biology? Or is it just a mechanism that nature laid down so that we wouldn't die out? I don't know, cos then where does all this emotion and passion come from? Is it just chemistry again, or is it endorphin addiction? I mean, it's so similar to opiates.

Does that mean we're addicts? Or is there something eternal, pure and pure? I've got an example right in front of me. Or is that just the exception to the goddamn rule? Can I love myself? I'm a fucking spider! Just a parasite in a flesh suit. An alien invader with the memory of a man who's lived an ordinary life. And is it my memory?

What am I? A product of chemistry, biology or nature? I dream of being human, but can I?

It's not hard to synthesise 'love', but what is its value? It's all just an illusion, a sick, twisted illusion, because it's easy to trick the brain. So what is the value of such an ephemeral and pathos-laden feeling as love? What does it teach? Suffering, pain and the pain of all the dreams shattered by life, which plunged the mind into the melancholy delirium of such a lonely madman? I never found the answer and only became more confused. I was so eager to find the answer that I myself got mired in the nets that my brain had cleverly set up. It tortures me with questions, but I have no answers, and I have to suffer from curiosity, because these thoughts are in no hurry to let go. But what are all these thoughts and questions about supposed humanity, love, soul?

Our mind imagines itself to be a strategist and likes to drive all unsteady minds into its illusory labyrinth. But it is a skilful actor, and only skilfully doses us with dopamine, hooking us on the 'happy' needle. No one tortures people with such diligence and fire as our memory, thoughts and clever brain, which stimulates all these 'necessary' processes.

It doesn't like to let us go. After all, there's no reason for everyone to be in such beautiful silence, and we need to think about something every time.

But does this mean that I have invisibly become a prisoner of the body, hormones and someone else's head?

Perhaps not, and it is only a morass of illusions that my mind has so kindly created. After all, we all live in our illusory dreams, wishing for something more. The brain, on the other hand, graciously allows us to dream, soar and create. However, for me it looks more like another visit from 'frowning', but this is already particular and purely my view of the world.

A couple of minutes later, the huge Ozcorp appeared, towering bloody spectacularly somewhere in the distance. I chuckled as I chased away the obsession and the extra thoughts that were a little out of place, because I had more important things to do than just poking around.

- Miz Parker, you look particularly irresistible today. - The military-looking guard smiled wryly.

She ignored the man like a bug and parked quietly at the entrance to Ozcorp's administrative office. No sooner had we left the car than we were greeted by a smiling dandy in an elegant tailored suit that fit the stunted foreigner to perfection.

- Ma cherie, long time no see. How's your gold and marble project going? - sarcastically problematised the Frenchman. - I made a good deal with Hammer Industries, and Ozkorp ordered me to design the south-west office. - grinned snakily and hissed at the dude.

- Emil, you're as annoying as ever. - May said coldly. - And as for your question, I'll answer it. Norman Osborne has generously appreciated that 'golden-marble' project and now is going to make in such style the headquarters of Ozcorp. - the rival who instantly lost the power of speech only tightly pressed his lips and still silently went away.

- Who's the bastard? - I immediately inquired.

- Emil Goson. We were at school together. Now let's go, for punctuality is the courtesy of kings, is it not? - With a graceful smile and a wink, she headed for the building.

Ozcorp's gloomy bulk was a perfect match for the smaller and relatively lighter building. However, it was hard to call the grey colour light, but against the anthracite-black background of the plant, its administrative part practically sparkled, even if it also looked a little threatening.

Inside the building the interior was slightly more interesting - everything was in warm colours. Having calmly passed the security post and the administration desk, we confidently rushed towards the lift. Having typed on the panel some complicated combination of numbers and unknown to me hieroglyphs, May started the lift to the last floor, where, in fact, Mr Oz himself was located.

The Ozcorp founder's office was even brighter due to the many windows that offered a fabulous view of the endless sky. Various mouldings adorned the walls and ceiling, which was skilfully painted with scenes from full-fledged battles. Soon the heavy doors made of mortared oak, which, like spikelets, protected the magnate's peace, and the fine carvings adorned them, as if complementing the various battles from above.

Opening the massive doors, I saw an ascetically furnished study. Its slightly archaic style, in the manner of office design, was surprisingly not annoying and even somehow fit in with the pathos structure that remained on the other side of the door.

Absolute pragmatism and practicality. All this was directly readable in the spacious office of one of the leaders of a multi-billion dollar conglomerate. Behind the massive oak desk stood the portrait of the founder and his son. The decoration of the room was extremely modest: a small holographic PC, a thick notebook and an old Parker in silver colours.

On the calfskin cover stood a simple helmet made of vibranium, but it also showed a small admixture of such proud metals as silver and titanium. The helmet was very recognisable, and yet it was just dusting on an ordinary notebook of personal notes. It was part of the decor, but it was also an important item for the master of the office and was always close at hand. The bright light of the holodisk was suddenly abruptly extinguished, but I could still see that Osborne was watching the economic reports straight from the world's stock exchange. Apparently, he'd also like to analyse the world market.

- Morning, Pete. - an extremely chipper Osborne smiled at us. - You look divine, May, so be our goddess from now on. - With a playful wink, he pulled out his notebook and began to make leisurely notes.

- Mr Oz,' I greeted the tycoon in the same manner.

- You look disgustingly chipper,' May smiled wryly. - Shall I tell you a secret?

- Write it down,' Norman only hummed. - Unicorn milk, the blood of a forty-year-old virgin, almost a mage, and some almonds for flavour. - With an impenetrably stony face, Osborn listed all the 'ingredients' of his vigour rather quickly. - Or a cup of good old latte might help too. - Now Osborne grinned.

- You're a sweetheart, as always.

- That's because...' the tycoon only chuckled. - Now let's get down to business. How much do you want? - Osborne continued more seriously.

- Five per cent of the total sum? - May said thoughtfully, adjusting her glasses.

- For God's sake,' the industrialist immediately began to bargain. - Half a cent is robbery, but I'm willing to do it for the sake of our friendship. - Osborne nodded graciously, as if doing me a favour.

- Norm, really, what the hell, we've known each other for years. You think I don't know you're an atheist? And yes, you're right, 4.5 per cent is ungodly low. Do you think Manfredi will pay 10 per cent, or is it better to bargain with the Sephardim of the New York clan? - our 'architect' continued his steady assault on the thinking tycoon.

- It won't take long to go around the world like that. - The industrialist smiled, clearly enjoying the haggling. - After all, our children have been friends since they were in nappies, can you give me a little more? Let's say for 0.75 I'm still ready to think about that gold. - the tycoon continued slyly.

- It is because our children are friends that we are talking now. - May continued in his tone. - But so be it, a modest 4 per cent is enough for me.

- Eh. You're cutting me without a knife,' Osborne sighed playfully. - Since Peter saved my son, I'm willing to make concessions and agree to one per cent. - Once again a magnanimous smile, almost turning into a grin, 'decorated' the businessman's face.

- Peter? - May continued sternly, and I, quietly, settled down in a corner, not interfering at all with such a curious play of one actress. - We'll come back to that. You brought it up yourself, Norman, so that's the only reason I'm only asking for three per cent, and you'll make your own arrangements with Mrs Gao's people.

- Deal. - After a brief pause, the tycoon agreed, and Mei dialed one of her contacts on her smartphone and put it on speakerphone, and a couple of minutes later a curious dialogue began in the Pinghuang dialect of Chinese.

Having quickly set up his computer for simultaneous translation, Osborne went back to his trading, and we moved closer to the window to get some fresh air. Smiling contentedly, Mei leisurely enjoyed the cool air.

- Chinese? - I asked quietly.

- Louis. - Mei explained and continued in a whisper. - I'll have to introduce you two sometime. He does all the paperwork, by the way. And he's a good guy, even if he is a little paranoid. I designed his bunker. - she added even more quietly.

Half an hour later the bidding was over, and a satisfied Osborne served us herbal tea from the distant Altai and told us various stories about how he, as a curious student, had survived in Mongolia and enjoyed the beauty of Lake Baikal.