Spider-Man SI

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***

- Bro, do superheroes have big salaries?

- Salary? - I'm trying to get to the heart of the matter. - Come on, what salary? There's no salary.

- Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Without a salary it is certainly not so interesting... - Poole says thoughtfully, but suddenly he suddenly rises sharply in spirit. - Oh, I'm sorry, mate. I'm stupid! What's the point of a salary? If self-sufficiency rules! You take down a couple of bad guys, you pocket the money. Holy shit! Why didn't I think of that before?! Working for a pittance, no way! I'm starting a new life! I'm gonna make a great hero!

Merciful Apocalypse! Forgive me, universe! It was an accident. It just happened! It's not my fault. What am I panicking about, anyway? If a mercenary becomes a superhero, it's for the best. Another person set on the path of righteousness. This person's methods, however, are... controversial, but that's just a matter of opinion....

I guess.

- You should think it over. You shouldn't make any hasty decisions. - to clear my conscience, I dare to make a small attempt to put things back on track. However, realising its futility, I change the subject. - So tell me, what's your beef with this robot? Bro.

- Oh! Imagine that! - While Deadpool was justifying his second nickname, namely, talking, I tried to get comfortable on the roof of the armoured van that had recently been carrying a special forces unit. It didn't work out so well. Since the roof was not originally designed for such a thing. - So I go to the bank. To make a withdrawal, yeah. But by fate, no other way! I left my credit card in my other pants! The teller refused to take my word for it, the bitch! Oh, man! How do you not recognise me, eh?! Anyway, she and I were halfway to the vault when this bucket on chicken legs showed up. Before I knew it, the damn thing had stolen my rightfully-earned money. The bucket refused to talk to me nicely. And then you came along.

- Insidious robot. However... - I squeezed out of myself, after a few moments of comprehending the information received.

- That's not a word! - Deadpool sighed sorrowfully, and lifted the beer can. Without looking, I knocked it down with my own can.

We sipped our beers and thought. Each to his own. What the mercenary was thinking about, I don't even suspect, and in fact I don't want to know! So it's calmer for the psyche. Personally, I was struggling with myself. On the one hand, I really wanted to be friends with the mercenary. In my virtual list of promising personalities, with whom it would be worth to mingle in this universe, he was almost in first place! An odd choice at first glance. Yeah, probably the second. I myself had little idea what Deadpool was good for me. Well, I did know that. The only thing I doubted was whether I'd ever get a return on my acquaintance. I was honestly a little embarrassed to even think about it. Making a friendship with a person only because of the benefits he could bring in the future, it's not nice. It's wrong.

I've never done that and I don't intend to in the future.

Anyway, I'd be happy to just be friends with Poole. But... there's always the proverbial 'but'. The mercenary was too out of this world. And even that I could get over, after all, we all have our quirks. But that aura of his, it was clearly affecting me. I fell for his adventures too easily and effortlessly. Well, like this! We're sitting around drinking beer. And there's a robot convulsing in front of us, living out its last moments. No, I'm not arguing, the beer, as promised by my 'bro,' is very good. But that's not what heroes do! They don't drink alcohol in front of a crowd of onlookers and dozens of camera lenses.

I think there's some truth to my concerns. By associating with Deadpool, I risk one day becoming like him.

- Listen...

- Huh?' Poole responds lazily.

- I'm sorry I threw you out the window.

- Don't worry about it, mate. I love the feeling of freefall. - The mercenary finishes his beer in one big gulp and, clutching the can from under it, sends it flying with a graceful wave of his palm.

- Hm... - I see off the projectile with a glance, and after its successful landing, I ask a logical question. - And what about the consequences? Do you like it too?

- What consequences?

- Crashing on the pavement, I say, probably hurts?

- Fuck knows, bro. I've never tried it... - my interlocutor says melancholically.

- What do you mean you've never tried it? - I look dumbfounded at the satisfied mercenary. - What about then... Did you have a parachute then?

- Nope. I got something cooler!

I was about to ask what my interlocutor meant, when the scrap metal that remained of the robot caught my attention. Usually defeated robots quickly exploded. Their creator was meticulous in destroying untrustworthy creatures. As a scientist, I can understand that. No one wants to share their unique technology willingly. But this particular robot was in no hurry to self-destruct. Which naturally piqued my interest. Obviously, I didn't take the risk of going in to find out what was wrong with it. Then came Poole's offer to have a beer, and I couldn't refuse. Anyway, we sat on the roof of the van and waited for the qualified bomb squad. Let the professionals handle the job.

How we and the mercenary managed to dismantle this iron and do not want to remember! It may not have been seven, but it took a few sweats off my back! As a result, the robot turned from a monumental, powerful steel giant into an explosion-ravaged Japanese car. Although I'm overreacting. But it could not move on its own or actively fight back. While we were waiting for the sappers, who, by the way, were very late, something was humming, banging and rattling inside the relatively whole body of the robot.

Finally, at last, it stopped. With a muffled hiss, an armoured plate fell away from the hull.....

A minute passed, waiting for further introductions.

A minute followed by another.

Staring into the darkness of the cavity and straining my gaze to no avail, I lost count at minute seven. Even though I could see pretty well in the dark, my super vision wasn't helping. It was too bright all around, and it wouldn't let me sort of 'switch' to night vision.

The bomb squad finally rolled up and started unpacking their equipment. No sane boss would send his men to a potentially explosive site. And the time is such that sappers are not so much guys with wire cutters in their hands, but rather operators of robotic platforms. Who do all the dirty work for them.

- So what did you say you had instead of a parachute? - I finally allowed myself to relax a little, and continued the conversation.

- Oh!' exclaimed the bored mercenary, and he, too, braced himself, expecting the "fun" fight to continue. But Poole realised quicker than I that there would be no film. - I have a belt!

- A belt? - It's not to say I wasn't expecting something like this, I had to keep my eyes open for Deadpool. But still, I was a little creeped out by what he said.

- No, bro, you don't get it. It's not 'belt,' it's 'belt.'

- Oh, if it's 'belt,' then sure, then it makes sense.

- There! I knew you would understand quickly! - laughed my interlocutor. - You're smart! The belt is a great thing! Only, however, the batteries run out quickly.

- Yes... sad....

- I'm telling you. I'm running out of charge! Only enough for one teleportation! And then there's that bastard Weasel! Always stealing batteries to play on the gamepad! You're a bastard, aren't you, mate?!?

- Bastard. Stop! What did you say?! Tele... tele... tele... telep... teleportation? - I'm whispering in shock.

- Yeah.

It's hard to put my state of mind into words. I've always tried to be critical of my after-knowledge. Especially after I'd already been burned a couple of times.

But up to that moment I had filled myself with illusions, as if I knew all the basic, so to speak, immutable constants of the universe in which I found myself. The heroes and villains of the Marvel comics, though sometimes distorted, were quite recognisable. Iron Man here was Tony Stark, not some incomprehensible John Smith.

And here's the punchline! Right under my nose was a compact teleportation device. I didn't know about! I just can't remember if the Deadpool I knew from my other life had one. Or whether it was exclusive to the local mercenary variant....

Either way, my inner turmoil is of interest only to me. And while I was giving in to them, the robot I had so thoughtlessly forgotten about gave signs of life again. Something in its chest made a nasty humming noise. And from a dark hole in its body, something flew out at high speed! But the flight didn't last long. The UFO crashed with all its might into the door of an already battered police car, of which there were about a dozen lying around.

The door sagged.

The UFO fell silent.

Deadpool burped.

And I finally came to my senses!

- Bro! - I'm trying to put a little more friendliness in my voice.

- I don't know how, but the mercenary clearly suspected something.

- Listen. You won't refuse me a small favour, will you?

- I'm not giving up my belt!

- It's not like I don't have to.

- That's what they all say! - He grabbed the buckle with both hands and moved away from me.

- Well, what you should part with it for a day! - Feeling that such a unique opportunity was slipping through my fingers, I pressed Poole even more against my better judgement. I just wanted this technology so badly!

- What are the trousers on, will there be, eh!? I used to be able to afford that when I wasn't a hero....

- Don't you have a spare?

- Why would a handsome bachelor like me have a spare? - Poole was genuinely surprised.

- All right. Here. - I handed him a rope of spider's webbing. - It'll do for the first time!

I decided not to mention that the web would disintegrate in a couple of hours....

- Hm... - he still hesitates, twisting my present in his hands.

- I know it's not very presentable. Here's a couple of hundred, buy yourself something better.

- Hey! Bro, do you really think it's all about money? - He waved the notes away.

- What's it about? - I'm chilling with the urge to get what I want.

- It's just that I can't find a buckle with the same design as this one. And I love it! I've been round the shops. I've been knocking my socks off!

- Have you tried ordering one from a workshop?

- Fuck! Bro, you're a fucking genius!

- Well, you see! - I shove green papers to the happy mercenary. - Give me the belt! - I'm impatiently dancing while sitting down.

- All right, you've got me... - Poole reluctantly gives in. - Just don't let me run out of batteries!

- Don't worry. Everything will be fine. - I grasped what I wanted and smiled happily. - All right, I'm off. You keep an eye on that drone. Okay? I'll call you later.

- What drone? - Poole's shouting back at me in bewilderment.

- This one, of course. - I stop at the edge of the van, and point at the UFO taking off again. It was clearly some kind of drone, and judging by the rather large hull... - It must have some of the valuables stolen from the bank inside!

- You think? - The eyes of the newfound hero shine with an unheroic light, and so I hurry to redirect his mercantile interest in a more productive direction.

- Yeah. I don't understand why a man rich enough to create such an interesting technology needs more money....

My brother's eyes light up like harbour searchlights, igniting like the fires of the Inquisition!

As the drone gained altitude, it flew away, followed by the red shadow of the talkative mercenary. Clutching my belt tighter to my chest, I hurried to bow out as well.

Behind me, the sound of the robot's main body exploding is heard. What a bunch of people! They don't want to share their work, you know. They should have followed my friend's example. He's a true hero.

***

Standing on the ceiling in my workshop I desperately and strongly beat my forehead against the wall.

I couldn't do it.

I couldn't figure out the teleportation device. I lacked knowledge. No matter how smart I was, I couldn't understand how it worked. I was a long way from being a real scientist, and while I'd made some progress on the biological side of my mental development with Connors's help, the technical side was still lame. I was good in comparison with schoolchildren, even overtaking in knowledge some graduates of higher educational institutions. But as it turned out, it wasn't enough. Not yet. In time, I'll mature, I'll get those crumbs of knowledge that I don't have yet. Someday. Maybe in a year, or more likely a few...

And I don't have the time! I gave Poole my word that I'd have the belt back in twenty-four hours, and I wasn't about to break it. My heart would ache, but I'd keep my promise. The teleport would have to go. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to get it again. And I didn't want to put it off for too long.

I spent two hours researching it. It took me an hour to realise the futility of my futile endeavours. It took another to fight my own stubbornness. The realisation of one's own helplessness is never easy...

Ah yes... To two hours I could safely add five minutes of beating the forehead of the unfortunate and innocent wall.

I had to make up my mind.

There was too little time left. There was no time to waste. Taking out my mobile phone, I quickly found the right number and now I was nervously listening to the intermittent ringing.

- ... Yes, it's me. ... We need to meet. Yes, right now. Okay.

Hanging up the phone. I quickly threw off the rest of my suit, dropped in on my relatives for a minute, brushed off the little one and her pile of questions, and ran off to the bathroom. After a couple of minutes of cold shower, when I slipped out into the corridor again, Petra was already waiting. The barrage of questions repeated with renewed vigour. I would have been happy to chat with my sister, but time was running out! So I had to resort to extreme measures. I guess the little one wasn't so much afraid of the tickling as she was embarrassed by the process. In the end I managed to pay off with a large white chocolate bar stashed away for such a rainy day, and a vow to tell everything at the first opportunity.

Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I was comfortably seated in the cabin of a small helicopter belonging to Stark Industries, staring blankly out the small porthole. According to the pilot, we had a little over an hour to go, and I was more nervous than ever.

The decision to bring in an outsider, even an outsider like Stark, was controversial. Rash and hasty. There was not an iota of sober, cold-blooded calculation in it! I didn't just have advanced technology in my hands, no. It was more than that. With it, I would no longer drool over the Night Serpent's capabilities. The ability to teleport, besides its immense practical value, had some other value. It was like a child's dream come true! If only to learn how to be invisible....

Hmm... that's an idea... by the way...

Suddenly fascinated by the new idea, I didn't notice how we flew. The destination was a small rocky island. Or rather even a conglomerate of one island and a rocky reef around it. Where more, where less, but stone boulders protruding above the sea level were in huge quantity and almost completely surrounded the islet. Even the smallest boat could hardly moor here. The only way to get to the island seemed to be by air. At first glance it didn't seem at all clear why we had come here. Nevertheless, I wasn't surprised. Except a little. Why?

I obviously knew where my vehicle was going. But I assumed the picture would be slightly different from what I'd seen. According to Stark, the 'science centre', if you can call it that, to which he had assigned Otto Octavius to refine his reactor, would be located on the mainland. In general, the German turned out to be quite funny.

Knowing what he could become in the future, I tried to keep track of his life. He was a public man and quite famous. In scientific circles, of course. And... I would say scandalously famous. For he had an impulsive and violent temperament. Often where Octavius appeared, there were theoretical disputes in high tones. With breaking crockery and pouring champagne over the opponent's head. But that was the end of it. Otto did not seek to literally destroy his enemies, did not rob banks, did not terrorise the city and did not try to blow it up. So on reflection, I realised that I simply could not preemptively eliminate him as a possible threat to the future. Nor could I preemptively eliminate any of my other likely villains. As long as they were still law-abiding citizens, I couldn't take on such a burden.

Anyway, I decided not to take the easy way out just yet. After all, you can always use your head. And if, say, I did not know how to deal with the elder Osborn, I had a plan for the German scientist. Or rather, it had appeared some time after I had met Stark. It occurred to me that they both had something in common. They were both in the development phase of their reactors. It wasn't hard to get Tony's attention on Octavius' project. And then one day at one of the advanced electronics technology fairs, we all met together. I didn't even have to influence the conversation much. The two nutcases immediately clashed in an argument about whose reactor, 'scheisse', is cooler! And as a result, the argument was born. When the prototypes of both devices are ready, they will make all possible measurements and find out who is a real scientist and who is 'beschämend delitant!'*.

Tony was aware of his opponent's dire financial situation. He considered the difference in their capabilities unsportsmanlike. So he offered to help Octavius with whatever he needed to build the reactor. And was immediately sent away. The proud German said he wouldn't accept a handout. Here I had to intervene a little, and smooth out the corners as far as it was in my power. I couldn't convince the stubborn scientist just like that. He's so stubborn! The situation was suddenly saved by Tony. He, apparently, amused his opponent, and Stark liked to play and was fully confident of victory. He said that a dispute without bets and not a dispute at all. So at stake on the one hand became a fully equipped laboratory with a considerable grant of money on top. On the other hand, if he lost, Octavius was obliged to work off the money spent on the construction of the reactor.

But that was a thing of the past.

The pilot successfully landed the helicopter on a small site, and I, with my head pressed into my shoulders, ran to the door of a one-storey building with thick concrete walls.

- Mr Parker. - Pepper Potts gave me a courteous nod. She met me at the door. - Follow me, please.

My imagination drew her white rabbit ears, and I followed Stark's secretary, curving my lips into a faint smile. She didn't react, though she probably didn't see anything; the girl seemed to be completely absorbed in her work on the tablet computer. How she managed to keep her eyes on the road was beyond me!

- Tell Miss Potts. - I said after a couple of minutes of very brisk travelling. - Your employer once mentioned that this base would be on the mainland....

Not that I was hoping for an answer. Potts and I have a strained relationship. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but she definitely suspected me of something. And she was very wary.

* Beschämend delitant. It's a google translation, the author knows German in absentia! Yes, yes, yes, from the wonderful German cinema. Kick me if I'm wrong! :)

Unfriendly.

- She was. - I was answered glumly after a minute. - Until that... ahem... Professor Octavius blew it up.

- Wow!

- Yeah!

- But how did it happen?

- How? Well, just like something usually explodes, like this. - Potts's tone was a little different from her usual grumpy tone, or rather it was still there, but now it was clearly not directed at me. - Octivus had urgently needed to test the workings of his invention. But as I realised, at that moment it had not yet been finalised. As a result, an expensive science centre with state-of-the-art equipment just blew up! The damage was so extensive that it was easier to tear down what was left of the buildings and build anew! I had to decontaminate the base as a matter of urgency. The crazy German wasn't even in the hospital for a week!

Pepper continued to pour her heart out as she walked. I followed her in silence and listened with my ear. I had little interest in hearing how hard she worked for Stark Industries. Or that she was underpaid for such work. The main thing I realised was that apart from Octavius himself, no one was hurt in the incident. Well, no one except Stark's money. But I wasn't going to interfere with his expressive speech, nor was I going to interrupt it. I'm not a professional psychologist, but I realise that the role of a silent listener in this situation would suit me best. In general, perhaps, I should hint to Stark that his assistant has a crisis and she needs a man's support. I don't think he'd deny a lady in need. I wasn't going to get involved in their family and corporate problems. I have enough of my own.

- I'm sorry. - Potts let out a weak sigh at the end. She didn't look at me, turning away from me.

- It's okay. - I mumbled neutrally, but then I couldn't help myself and added cheerfully. - I'll give Stark your wishes for better working conditions!

- Pfft! - The girl snorted, and gave me a murderous look. - Right this way! - She turned round with a glance at the only door in the corridor, and with a loud clomp of her heels she left.

Behind the door was a rather large room with high ceilings supported by round steel columns. The furnishings were quite curious. On one side, white fluffy sofas with a bunch of colourful round cushions were arranged under the wall. A small corner that looked like a mini kitchenette or a maxi bar. On the other side of the room, there was a large, almost full-wall window made of thick glass, even if it looked like glass. Behind it was visible a small room, stuffed with various equipment to the very brim. In the centre of the room stood something that I identified as an Octavius reactor. Apparently, it was a fully working prototype. The glass itself, in addition to everything else, played the role of a huge computer monitor. It was possible to look at a lot of pictures, graphs, figures and all such things.

Under it there were five wide and comfortable armchairs. In one of them Octavius sat slumped and muttered something in German. Behind his back I noticed, without much surprise, metal manipulators. The two lower ones were lying on the floor and occasionally tapping on it. Like dog tails. The upper pair, in contrast to them... hmmm.... were playing catch-up. They were wriggling, twisting from side to side, trying to 'bite' each other and in every way behaving as if they were baby dogs.

Stark settled down next to them. Unlike Octavius, who had faded away, he was puffing with energy and enthusiasm. Whistling some song, he reclined in his chair, operating a futuristic-looking keyboard at lightning speed.

- Hey! You guys did the testing without me!

The German's stricken look, and Stark's contrary mood, led me to a single conclusion. Those two science geeks have already measured... their reactors' performance data! Without me! Those bastards!

- Oh, Pete! - Stark swivelled in his chair, and seeing my angry expression, he hurriedly turned the tables. - It was Octopus! He was the one who couldn't wait to know the result!

- Was ist der Unterschied jetzt*?' said Octavius grimly. - Und was für ein Dummkopf Spitzname*?

- Komm schon, Kumpel! Nun, ich denke zu verlieren! Es ist all die kleinen Dinge des Lebens! In einer Welt der so viel mehr nicht geöffnet ist, nicht erfunden und zu erforschen***! - Tony parried.

- Stop speaking German! I don't understand a damn thing! And anyway! Stark, when did you learn the language!?

- I started this morning. - I'm still not good at it. I can still hear the accent.

What a bloody genius! You don't feel like an idiot next to him, but close.

- You don't understand. - Octavius sullenly said, switching to normal English. - This was my life's work! And now, it's destroyed! Completely... irrevocably... I don't want to learn anything... what's the point now?

- Well, you have awesome tentacles! - Stark exclaimed with a smile. - You could be a superhero and fight crime. How do you control them?

Honestly, I was scared! My multi-billionaire friend is good, but he's got a big mouth.

- Hmm... - Otto looked at one of his extra limbs. - Maybe... I'll study them later. But first, I have a duty to fulfil. When do I start work, Mr Stark? - The German's face was gaunt, and in an instant, he aged several decades.

- Oh, yes, that... - Tony scratched his head puzzled. - I didn't realise... But wait a minute, that's not my problem. You officially work for Pete. Let him give you a hard time.

- What do you mean, 'for Pete'? - I was outraged. - When did I do that?

- Let's say not you, but your perky financial director. - Stark grinned, rising from his chair. - Excuse us for a moment, Octopus! We need to gossip!

Otto only waved at us languidly, not wanting to get out of his gloomy mood. Meanwhile, Tony and I had retreated to the kitchen-bar part of the room. His friend took out two glasses and poured some whiskey into them.

- So?' I asked quietly, twirling my own glass hesitantly.

- You see, Peter. At the moment, I don't know who arranged my holiday in hot Afghanistan. I haven't had time to investigate. But common sense and your silence suggest it's someone in my inner circle. So far, the only people I'm sure of are you and Pepper, who I've checked out.

- What about me?

- With all due respect, you couldn't have gotten me into that kind of trouble.

- I'm still not sure where you're going with this.

- It's simple. I thought it might be a good idea to have a few backups. That's why this lab was reissued to you. The little Hardy girl was quick to help me out. Tony smiled lewdly. - That's quite an assistant you got yourself. I liked the way she bought up the stock after that press conference.

Wow. Am I being recognised as a trustworthy boyfriend now? Or is this a test? Hmmm... whatever the extra assets are, can't hurt. And if it's an advanced lab!

- I'm sorry. - I shrug, not really feeling sorry. - It wasn't hard to assume you'd do something like that.

- Yeah?' the man chuckled. - But please, if you also start telling me off, and say that I made a foolishness, refusing to release the weapon ....

- Tony! Who am I to lecture you?!

- You're really not going to say anything?

- Why not? I will, but not about your company's politics. I'm not interested! But as far as your assistant is concerned.

- Pepper? What about her?

- Tony, you need to pay more attention to your employees. It's a basic tenet of being a successful manager. If you ask me, the girl's been through enough. She's been doing the best she can while you've been away. Give her a holiday, say on an island somewhere. She deserves it, and she's stressed out because of you.

- She deserves it. - he nodded thoughtfully.

- Good. Now let's go to our gloomy Doc Ock! I've got a job for you!

- A job? For us? - Stark raised an eyebrow sceptically.

- Oh! I promise you'll love it!

*Was ist der Unterschied jetzt? - What does it matter now?

**Und was für ein Dummkopf Spitzname? - And what's with the stupid nickname?

***Komm schon, Kumpel! Nun, ich denke zu verlieren! Es ist all die kleinen Dinge des Lebens! In einer Welt der so viel mehr nicht geöffnet ist, nicht erfunden und zu erforschen! - Come on, mate! So what if you lost! It's all the little things of life! There's still so much undiscovered, undiscovered and undiscovered in the world!