Chapter 96 Reflections on Containers
On the rooftop of Stark Tower, Lynn leaned against the railing, a cigarette between her left fingers, unlit, just twirling it between her thumb and forefinger.
The cigarettes were Tony's, a very strong brand. He doesn't usually smoke, but he needed to hold something in his hand at that moment.
Fury's words kept replaying in his mind.
container.
Not a son, but a vessel. Before his death in 1974, Howardbought a resurrection insurance policy, backing up his genes and memories, waiting to one day crawl out of the test tube and continue to be the head of Stark Industries.
"It doesn't make sense," he muttered to himself, his voice carried away by the wind.
If he is a clone of Howard, how does the system explain that? How does it explain the memories of a transmigrator? He has Lin Chen's first half of life in his mind, as well as the streets, takeout, and subway rush hour of another world.
Howard can't back up these things.
No matter how smart Howard is, he can't replicate anotherUniverse's childhood.
He opened his right hand, and the white mark on his palm, which had already healed, was still there; it was left by the Wolverine template.
On his left palm, the red dot anchor Wanda had applied was slightly warm, like a thumbtack embedded under his skin.
"I brought the system with me,"
He spoke to the air.
"I unlocked the ability myself. Howard gave me the cells, but not the instructions."
He recalled what Ancient One had said. Locks. The welder. If he was Howard's vessel, then what he was doing now—sealing ADAM-0, welding shut the Winter Soldier backup—was tantamount to dismantling Howard's platform. A true replica wouldn't dismantle the original.
"So I'm not like him,"
Lynn put the cigarette back in the pack, and the metal lid clicked shut.
"At least it's not the kind of resemblance he's thinking of."
The red dot on my palm suddenly burned; it wasn't the gentle touch of Wanda, but a sharp, needle-like pain.
Lynn frowned and looked down. The red dot was glowing, very faintly, like a breathing light.
Then Mr. Chen's voice came from the red dot, not through the air, but directly into his head, as if someone had shoved an earphone into his skull.
" Mr. Lynn,"
Mr. Chen's voice was flat, with a slight hint of the air conditioning in the conference room.
"The 72-hour countdown has begun. Friendly reminder: The final resonance does not require your consent. The sealing layer of ADAM-0 is encoded with your genetic sequence. When you stand in front of it, the genetic chains will automatically shake hands. The door you weld can't stop yourself."
Lynn didn't panic.
He pressed his thumb against the red dot with great force, as if trying to push it back into his skin: "You insurance salesmen, you even come to my door to collect payments?"
"Just informing you,"
Mr. Chen said,
"The buyer is very patient, but the machine isn't. ADAM-0's central processing unit degrades at low temperatures, and every hour, the integrity of the memory backup decreases by three percent of zero points. If it drags on too long, the restored Mr. Howard might forget how to fly a plane. Or… forget how to be a father."
That last sentence was like a needle, but Lynn didn't let it pierce her.
He released his thumb, the red dot stopped burning, and Mr. Chen's voice also stopped, like a radio with a bad signal suddenly losing its station.
"You're a good father,"
Lynn spoke to the empty rooftop,
"Even in death, he caused trouble for others."
He turned and walked towards the elevator, his steps slow, the soles of his shoes making a soft rustling sound as they dragged on the muddy water.
9:30 PM, Zero, Stark Tower medical floor corridor.
Wanda sat on the floor with her back against the wall, knees together, and hands on her knees.
She changed into an old Lynn T-shirt, dark gray, the neckline frayed from washing, the hem hanging down to mid-thigh. Her stabilizer was still on her wrist, the LEDs all green, but it was jumping half a beat slower than normal, like a phone that had just been charged.
She wasn't wearing shoes; her bare feet were on the floor, the soles of her feet pressed against the cold tiles.
One of the hallway lights was broken, flickering above her head and making her figure appear longer or shorter.
Lynn walked around the corner, saw her, and stopped.
He was still clutching the pack of cigarettes in his hand, his knuckles white from the force of his grip.
"woke up?"
He asked.
"I woke up early,"
Wanda said she didn't look up.
"I can't sleep in a bed that's too big without you here."
Lynn walked over and sat down next to her, leaning against the same wall, his shoulder against hers. He bent his knees, put his cigarette case on the floor, and pulled the folding knife from his pocket; the short blade flashed briefly in the hallway's flashlight.
He placed the knife on his knee; the metal felt cool against the fabric.
" Banner said I need to sleep 24 hours a day,"
Wanda said,
"I slept for two and a half hours. I plan to skip work for the rest of the time."
"approve,"
Lynn said.
Wanda turned her head to look at him.
His face looked hard under the flashlight, his jawline taut, but there was no trembling.
She looked for a while, then turned back and stared at a fire door at the end of the corridor:
" I heard what Fury said. I didn't eavesdrop on purpose; he just has a loud voice, and it echoed in the hallway."
"Um,"
Lynn said.
What do you think?
"I was thinking,"
Lynn's fingers traced the folding knife handle, her fingertips pressing against the metallic texture.
"If I was created by Howard, then wouldn't the bars I frequented, the people I slept with, and the templates I unlocked count as his estate? Does he have to pay estate tax?"
Wanda smiled slightly, very softly, like air leaking from her lungs:
"...Is that all you want?"
"I thought of another one,"
Lynn said,
" What instruction manual did Strucker provide when he created you?"
Wanda's smile faded.
She looked at her fingertips, where a trace of Red Mist still lingered, like rouge that hadn't been wiped off.
"It gave us hatred. It gave us a number. It gave us the words 'go to hell' and 'go kill.' That was it."
"Then why are you sitting here now?"
"Because I tore up the instruction manual,"
Wanda said her voice was very soft, but she enunciated each word clearly.
"I chose to sit here. Against the wall, my feet are cold, and next to me is a self-righteous idiot."
Lynn didn't say anything.
He picked up the folding knife from his knee, opened it, spun the blade under the light, and then closed it again. A crisp click.
"Me too,"
He said,
" Strucker gives you a number, The Union gives me a number. But the number is on paper, the person is on the ground. Howard wants to be resurrected, let him line up himself. I don't give out numbers here."
Wanda tilted her head and rested it on his shoulder.
Her hair brushed against his neck, a little prickly, andsmelled of shampoo and lemongrass.
"What if The Union doesn't let you queue?"
She asked,
"What if that door really can't stop you?"
"Then tear the door down."
Lynn said,
"The wall is the same as the wall. What I weld, I can melt."
Wanda closed her eyes, and her breathing became long and even.
"...Your boasting sounds even more like Stark than Howard's."
"I've practiced,"
Lynn said.
10:17 PM, Stark Tower Lab.
Tony laid the original 1971 agreement on the table. It wasn't a scanned copy; it was the original, with the texture of parchment and yellowed edges.
He was wearing gloves and holding a portable ultraviolet lamp, the purple beam sweeping across the paper.
Banner stood to the side, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. It had gone cold, but he didn't drink it; he just held it.
"The last page,"
Tony said the beam of light stopped at the bottom right corner of the agreement, "where there was correction fluid."
The old-fashioned correction fluid from the 1970s contained titanium dioxide, which fluoresced under ultraviolet light.
When the purple light shone on it, sure enough, a layer of pale white fluorescence floated on the paper, covering a few lines of small text. Tony leaned closer to look, his lips moving silently, as if he were reciting something.
Then he turned off the light, took off his gloves, took his phone out of his pocket, and dialed Lynn's number.
The phone rang three times before being answered.
" Lynn,"
Tony said his voice was a notch lower than usual, and it lacked its usual sarcastic tone.
"Come to the lab. Bring Wanda. I need to show you something."
"What are you looking at?"
Lynn's voice came through the phone, with background static from the hallway.
"Look at the last annotation your father wrote,"
Tony said,
"He may want to be resurrected, but he wants you to live even more. HS's handwritten note, the last line: 'If ADAM-1-PRIME develops an independent personality, the agreement will automatically terminate. The Union may not enforce it.'"
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then Lynn said:
"HS?"
" Howard Stark,"
Tony said,
"He signed the document and put his fingerprint on it. It was red."
Lynn chuckled briefly on the other end of the phone, a short, almost coughing sound:
"...Old man, he even had a trick up his sleeve after he died."
"He's always been like that,"
Tony said,
"Now you have cards in your hand. Want to play or not?"
"Come,"
Lynn said,
"Leave me a cup of coffee. Hot, please."
Tony hung up the phone and placed the UV lamp on the table.
Banner finally took a sip of her cold coffee, her brow furrowing deeply.
"Hot?"
Banner asked.
"He said he wanted it hot,"
Tony carefully rolled up the original agreement.
"Then heat it up for him. At least tonight, he wants to be alive."
Chapter 97 Countdown
Stark Tower lab. Lynn pushed open the door and came in, followed by Wanda, who was carrying a hot coffee left by Tony, the paper cup so hot that her fingertips turned red.
Tony laid the original agreement out on the table. The ultraviolet light was still on, and the fluorescent print shone through the ultraviolet light, making it look like a glowing birthmark.
Lynn bent down to look, his nose almost touching the paper. He read the line aloud in a low voice:
"If ADAM-1-PRIME develops an independent personality, the agreement will automatically terminate."
"Your father put his fingerprint on it,"
Tony pointed to the bottom right corner; the red fingerprint had faded, but the outline was still there.
" The Union can't legally enforce it right now. They have to discuss it with you."
"Discuss what?!"
Lynn straightened up, took the coffee cup, and took a sip. It was so hot it made her tongue numb.
"What they should be thinking about now is how to compensate for the breach of contract."
Before he could finish speaking, Banner's monitor went off.
It wasn't just a normal beeping sound; it was a continuous, long siren, like an ambulance. Banner pounced from the corner, his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose, his fingers frantically typing on the keyboard.
" Bucky's brainwaves,"
Banner said her voice was strained.
"The frequency jumped to 400 Hz and is still going up. This is not normal neural activity; the interface is self-destructing and rebooting."
"What's the meaning?"
Wanda asked.
"It means someone is remotely burning his brain,"
The banner turned the screen around, revealing a jumble of curves.
"It's like pouring high voltage into the CPU, activating all the dormant protocols."
Almost simultaneously, the floor of Stark Tower trembled.
It was very slight, like a heavy truck passing by downstairs. But there's no road downstairs, only a seal.
Lynn slammed her coffee cup on the table, spilling brown liquid that spread around the original agreement document.
"under."
They ran toward the elevator.
Tony ran while tugging at the exoskeleton straps, Bannerheld the tablet, and the stabilizer LED on Wanda's wrist changed from green to yellow.
At 10:55 PM, the deep cavity in Stark Tower B5.
The seal is still there.
But the bio-alloy shell that Lynn welded changed color, from dark red to dark orange, like a piece of heated iron.
The surface is cracked, very fine, like ice cracks on porcelain, each one slowly extending, making a very soft crackling sound like a twig breaking.
"temperature?"
Lynn asked.
"The outer casing surface is at a 47-degree angle,"
Banner stared at the tablet.
"The internal readings are not visible; the sensor is being interfered with."
Lynn walked to the seal, her palm hovering ten centimeters above the crack. Heat surged upwards, drying her palm.
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his left arm, and pulled a folding knife from his pocket, making a cut behind his elbow. Blood gushed out, and he pressed his palm against the crack.
Blood sizzles when it touches hot metal, like frying bacon.
Wolverine's healing factor flowed in the blood, seeping into the cracks and attempting to seal them. But the blood evaporated as soon as it seeped in, leaving behind dark brown streaks.
"no,"
Lynn withdrew her hand; the wound in her elbow was already closing.
"The temperature is too high, and the blood dries up too quickly."
Wanda walked over to him and placed her hands on the seal. Red Mist welled up from her palms, pouring into the cracks like paste.
When the mist encounters high temperatures, it hisses even louder, like water being poured onto red-hot coals.
The crack has been filled.
The dark red fog solidified on the metal surface, like a newly grown scab.
But Wanda's face instantly turned white, and her knees bent forward.
Lynn braced her back with her shoulder, letting her lean against him.
"Don't force yourself,"
He said.
"I didn't force myself to endure it,"
Wanda's voice was squeezed out from between her teeth.
"They're pulling it from the other side. Every time they fill a gap, someone pulls it from the other side."
She was referring to Bucky.
More than ten kilometers apart, the interface in Bucky'sbrain and the sealed ADAM-0 were coupled together, like two Jean strings being tuned to the same frequency; when one is plucked, the other vibrates.
Banner's tablet beeped again. He glanced at it, and his pupils contracted.
"The detention cell surveillance footage. You need to take a look."
He handed the screen over.
In the video, Bucky stands in the center of the room with his hands handcuffed behind his back by an electronic lock. He doesn't break free, but instead lowers his head, and the metal arm of his left arm makes a deep humming sound, like an overloaded transformer.
His hair covered his face, but through the gaps in the hair, you could see his pupils glowing, a golden-green color.
He suddenly looked up and smiled at the surveillance camera.
It wasn't Bucky's smile; it was a mechanical, programmed expression, the corners of his mouth twitching. Then he raised his metal arm and slammed his fist into the concrete wall.
The plaster on the wall had cracked open, revealing the red bricks underneath, with white ash seeping from the cracks between the bricks.
"He is resonating with the seal,"
Banner said,
"Every punch landed at the same frequency. The cracks in the seal didn't come from the inside; they were created by his shockwave."
Lynn looked at the screen and pressed her thumb on the red dot on her palm as a positioning anchor.
The anchor was still there, slightly warm, its pulse becoming a dull, heart-pounding beat.
How many punches is he going to throw?
Lynn asked.
"At this frequency,"
Banner quick calculation
"Three hundred more punches, or less, and the wall of the detention cell will collapse first. Then he will run out and run this way. He doesn't know the way, but the interface will guide him, like GPS."
"Stop him,"
Wanda said the red mist was still seeping from her fingertips, but the color had lightened, resembling diluted tomato juice.
" Where's Natasha? Where's Fury?"
" Natasha is on her way,"
Banner said,
" Fury yelled on the phone that no deadly force could be used against Bucky, who was a key witness."
"Let him yell."
Lynn said. He turned and walked towards the elevator.
"I'm going to the detention room."
"Your going won't do you any good,"
Banner called from behind.
"The closer you are to the seal, the stronger the resonance. Your arrival is like building a bridge between the two sides."
Lynn stopped walking.
He looked back at the seal, then at his own palm. The red dot on his palm was jumping, in the same rhythm as the buzzing of Bucky's metal arm.
"Then what should we do?"
He asked.
" Rogers went,"
Banner looked at another screen, which displayed the elevator surveillance footage from Stark Tower.
"He took the freight elevator up, not through the main entrance. The Fury staff couldn't stop him."
11:12 PM, SHIELD Temporary Detention Cell, B12.
Rogers ran up the fire escape stairs, his combat boots thumping heavily on the steps.
His lungs hadn't yet adapted to the circulating air of modern air conditioning; he was a little out of breath when he ran fast, but his pace didn't slow down.
He had no gun, only a dagger, given to him by Natasha, with anti-slip tape wrapped around the handle.
Two agents stood at the door of the detention cell, rifles at the ready. Upon seeing Rogers, they raised their guns.
" Captain, on Director Fury's orders."
"I know,"
Rogers didn't stop, he walked straight to the door.
"Open the door."
" The Director said..."
"Open the door,"
Rogers repeated himself, his voice low, but each word like a nail driven into wood.
"Or I'll watch you get beaten to death by him. Choose one."
The two agents exchanged a glance.
A third loud crash came from behind the door, the sound of concrete blocks falling to the ground, like someone was demolishing a house.
One of the agents swallowed hard and pressed the access control button.
The door slid open.
Rogers went in, pushed the door shut behind him with a click.
Bucky stood in the center of the room, with his back to him.
The metal arm was still humming, its surface glowing a faint red light—a sign of overload. His shoulders were trembling, his muscles contracting under the force of the electric current.
" Bucky,"
Rogers said.
Bucky didn't turn around.
His head tilted, like a radio with a bad signal adjusting its angle.
"James Barnes,"
Rogers shouted again, took two steps forward, and his boots made a crisp sound as they stepped on a piece of broken concrete.
Turn around and look at me.
Bucky slowly turned around.
The golden-green pupils shone brightly in the dim light, like two coins.
The mechanical smile still lingered on his lips, but his eyes were twitching, as if two people were fighting over a remote control on his face.
" Steve,"
Bucky spoke, his voice like two rusty pieces of metal rubbing together, but his tone was flat and emotionless.
"Mission objective. Priority: highest."
"I am not a mission,"
Rogers said he took another step forward, the dagger hanging at his side, blade facing backward.
"I'm Steve. Brooklyn, 1924. You taught me to play baseball, and I could never catch the ball. Remember?"
Bucky's pupils flickered, a hint of gray-blue flashing across the golden-green hue, like the sky peeking through a crack in the clouds.
His metal arm drooped down half an inch, and the buzzing sound subsided.
"Remember..."
Bucky said his voice had changed; it had become hoarse, like it had been pulled up from a very deep place.
"...Cold. Fire car. Very cold."
"Then you fell down,"
Rogers said, taking another step, he was now only two meters away from Bucky.
"I've been looking for you for a long time. Now I've found you. Don't let them take you away again."
Bucky's metal arm suddenly rose again, and his golden-green pupils were once again covered by gray-blue.
His smile vanished, leaving only a blank expression.
"Final resonance... activation. The key... must be near the keyhole."
He lunged at him suddenly.
Rogers didn't dodge; instead, he went to meet him, the dagger slipped from his hand and landed on the ground, and he grabbed Bucky's metal arm with both hands.
The enormous impact pushed him backward, his back slamming against the wall, the air being forced out of his lungs, producing a muffled groan.
But Rogers didn't let go.
His fingers gripped the seams of the metal arm, his knuckles turning white, as if he were trying to remove it from Bucky's shoulder.
"No,"
Rogers said that his forehead was pressed against Bucky's, and his breath was on Bucky's face.
"You're not the key. You're my friend. Wake up."
Bucky's golden-green pupils trembled, like a light bulb with an unstable voltage.
The humming sound of the metal arm rose and fell, like a cassette tape recorder.
11:20 PM, Stark Tower basement.
Wanda's Red Mist is completely depleted.
She slumped to the ground, leaning against the wall, the LED lights on her wrist stabilizer all off.
The cracks on the seal's surface stopped spreading, but they also didn't heal, resembling scabbed wounds with dark red scabs mixed with dark brown blood.
Lynn crouched beside her; the wound in her elbow had healed, leaving a white line.
His palm rested on the seal, feeling the vibrations emanating from within the metal. The vibrations were slow and heavy, like the beating of a heart buried in concrete.
"It's stopped,"
Banner looked at the tablet, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
" Bucky's brainwaves... are decreasing in frequency. What did Rogers do?"
"He didn't do anything," Lynn said, pulling her hand back from the seal, her fingertips covered in a fine layer of metallic dust. "He just held him."
Tony stepped out of the elevator, holding another document in his hand, his face paler than usual.
"I just checked The Union's server logs. They don't wantHoward to be resurrected. They never cared whetherHoward was dead or alive."
"So what do they want?"
Wanda asked, her voice hoarse like a broken bellows.
"Want resonance,"
Tony slammed the document against the wall; the paper made a crisp sound.
"The seal of ADAM-0 contains the energy of the gem fragments. If Lynn's genetic code resonates with the seal, the energy will be released—enough to blow up half ofManhattan. Howard's memory backup is just a byproduct, a gimmick sold to Lynn. The Union's real buyer... bought the explosion."
Lynn looked at the cracks in the seal, then at her own palm.
The red dot on my palm is still there, but it's no longer throbbing; it's like a dead mole.
"So they don't want people,"
He said,
"I want fireworks."
"And we almost lit the fuse,"
Tony said.
Wanda reached out and grasped Lynn's hand.
Her fingers were cool, and her fingertips rubbed against the red dot on his palm:
"And now? The fuse is broken?"
"It's not broken,"
Lynn said her fingers were intertwined with hers.
"It's just burning a little slowly. Rogers caught Bucky, but the connection is still there. The Union will try again."
"Then weld it again,"
Wanda said, burying her face in her knees, her voice muffled.
"Weld until they stop firing their firearms."
Lynn didn't say anything, but simply pulled her closer to him, letting her shoulder rest against his chest.
Banner stood to the side, the light from the tablet shining on his face, making his dark circles look like two black holes.
Tony leaned against the wall, took out a screwdriver from his pocket, twirled it around, but didn't take a picture; he just held it in his hand.
"At least for now,"
He said,
"We know what they're selling. It's not insurance, it's bombs."
"Then let's change careers,"
Lynn said,
"To defuse bombs."
Chapter 98 Bomb Disposal
In the medical corridor of Stark Tower, Wanda sat on a plastic chair, clutching a sandwich, its paper packaging crumpled into a ball.
Pietro was squatting in front of the vending machine next to him, pounding on it because a bottle of Coke was stuck on the spring.
"Too much wasabi,"
Wanda took a second bite, her brow furrowing, and the tip of her nose quickly turning red.
"It's too rushed."
"The owner only has two kinds of sauce, yellow mustard and honey mustard,"
Pietro turned around and said, his forehead covered in dust from the vending machine.
"The honey is sold out. I added an extra lettuce leaf for you to balance it out."
Wanda pulled the lettuce out, looked at it, and then stuffed it back in:
"The lettuce is cold, and the wasabi is spicy. My mouth is both cold and spicy right now, like I have an ice-cold chili pepper in my mouth."
Lynn walked down the corridor, carrying a cup of milk. The paper cup had the Stark Industries logo printed on it, and there were some white milk stains on the rim.
He handed the cup to Wanda:
"drink."
"I don't drink milk,"
Wanda said.
"Then let's drink beer,"
Lynn said.
"Don't drink alcohol before surgery,"
Wanda took another bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly, as if chewing leather.
Lynn moved the cup forward slightly, and the milk sloshed inside, creating tiny ripples.
"Then drink my blood to replenish your strength. It's freshly cut and still warm."
Wanda looked up and glared at him.
Her eyes were still red, a consequence of yesterday's overexertion. Her eyes were bloodshot, and when she glared at people, she looked like a very sleepy cat.
She looked at him for three seconds, then took the milk, took a big gulp, and left a white mark on the corner of her mouth.
"fishy,"
She said.
"The milk all tastes fishy,"
Lynn said,
"For the cat to drink."
"You're the cat,"
Wanda shoved the cup back into his hand.
"I'm going to wash my hands."
She stood up and walked towards the restroom, her steps unsteady, as if she were walking on cotton.
Lynn looked at her back figure, then placed the milk cup on the chair, leaving a wet ring around the bottom of the paper cup on the plastic chair.
Tony poked his head out of the operating room, wearing half a pair of goggles with the lenses pushed up on his forehead:
"Come in. Banner has drawn the route map."
At 9:00 AM sharp, operating room on the medical floor of Stark Tower.
Bucky lay on the operating table, not strapped, but secured with medical straps, nylon buckles, across his chest, thighs, and ankles.
His left arm, made of metal, was removed. Tony tookRogers in last night, and they used hydraulic shears to dismantle it. The cut exposed a dense network of nerve endings, like a clump of severed telephone wire, still oozing a thin layer of tissue fluid.
Natasha stood on the left side of the platform, her hand onBucky's right shoulder. The pressure wasn't heavy, but her fingers were positioned precisely to press on the artery below his collarbone. If he suddenly attacked, she could knock him unconscious immediately.
Rogers sat on the right side of the table, without a chair, in a half-kneeling position, his knees resting against the metal frame of the operating table.
His face was very close to Bucky's, with their noses less than 30 centimeters apart.
"It will hurt in a moment,"
Rogers said the voice was low, like it was vibrating from deep within his chest.
" It hurts more than falling off a fire truck. But I'm here. Don't be ashamed to yell it out."
Bucky's eyelids were trembling.
His pupils are now grayish-blue, a normal color, but occasionally a glimmer of golden-green flashes in the depths of his eyes, like a desk lamp with unstable voltage.
His lips were chapped. He moved slightly but didn't make a sound, though his mouth formed the word " Steve."
Banner stands to the side of Bucky's head, holding a tablet that displays a 3D scan of Bucky's brain.
A red dot flashed deep in the back of his head, like a rivet embedded in his flesh.
"The chip is here,"
Banner pointed to the red dot, "It's embedded between the visual cortex and the hippocampus, surrounded by blood vessels."
The Union's design is filthy; the chip is connected to three main blood vessels, and forcibly removing it would cause massive bleeding. Furthermore, the chip's casing is conductive, so the EMP would directly burn it, potentially scorching the surrounding brain tissue.
"So blood is needed,"
Lynn said. He had already rolled up his sleeves, his left elbow pointing upwards, and Banner wiped it with an iodine-soaked cotton ball, the coolness raising goosebumps on his skin.
" Wolverine's self-healing factor can repair blood vessels,"
Banner said,
"But the prerequisite is that you have to make blood cover all the connection points at the same time the chip burns out. If it's a second earlier, the chip is still alive and The Union can be remotely restarted. If it's a second later, the brain tissue will already be charred."
"How many seconds?"
Lynn asked.
" Zero point five seconds,"
Banner said,
"most."
Wanda stood at the end of the operating table, her hands hanging at her sides, red mist beginning to seep from her fingertips, very faint, like diluted tomato sauce.
Banner switched her stabilizer to surgical mode, and the LED lights changed rapidly from green to blue.
Tony stood by the wall, holding a black remote control with only one red button wrapped in insulating tape.
"EMP range is three centimeters,"
Tony said,
"It will just cover the chip, without damaging anything else. I'll count to three, two, one, then press. You guys follow closely."
Banner took a deep breath, placed the tablet on the stand, put on rubber gloves, and pressed his fingers on Bucky'sscalp to find the right spot:
"start."
Wanda's Red Mist surged forth, not as an aggressive blade, but as a soft, gauze-like mist, seeping in from behindBucky's ear and crawling along the inside of his skull.
Her forehead immediately broke out in sweat, and the tip of her nose turned red again, but this time it wasn't from the spiciness of wasabi.
"I saw it,"
Wanda said her voice was very soft, as if she were talking to herself.
"A chip. Golden, very small, like a grain of rice."
"Wrap it up,"
Banner said,
"Don't touch the surrounding blood vessels."
Red Mist condensed in Bucky's brain, like a thin film spreading out along the chip's outer shell.
Bucky's body tensed up suddenly, the straps creaked and groaned, his teeth clenched, and his jawline stretched like a steel plate.
" Bucky,"
Rogers shouted, cupping Bucky's face in his hands and forcing him to look at him.
"Look at me. Don't look anywhere else. It's me."
Bucky's pupils contracted, flashing alternating shades of gray-blue and gold-green.
He let out a muffled groan, like a beast whose leg was caught in a clamp.
Lynn made a cut in the back of her elbow with a folding knife, and blood gushed out. It was thicker and darker in color than normal blood, like concentrated soy sauce.
Banner used a very thin tube to draw out the blood and drip it onto the incision on Bucky's neck.
Wolverine's self-healing factors flow in the blood, like a group of miniature welders, climbing along the blood vessels towards the chip.
"Connection point found," Banner said, staring at the real-time scan on the tablet.
"Three blood vessels. Lynn, prepare to cut them."
Lynn pressed her fingers against the edge of the incision onBucky's nape.
His fingertips were stained with his own blood, the blood was warm, and his self-healing factor was responding to a certain frequency.
Tony's finger hovered over the button.
At that very moment, Bucky's pupils turned completely golden-green.
His mouth opened, but the sound that came out wasn't his own; it was Mr. Chen's, like a recording that had been forcibly played:
"Self-destruct program initiated. Sixty seconds."
Banner's face instantly turned white:
"They're remotely burning chips! They're trying to cover their tracks!"
"quick!"
Natasha shouted, her hands moving from Bucky's shoulder to his neck, but she didn't choke him, she just pressed down on him.
"Sixty seconds!"
Wanda's Red Mist tightened abruptly, like an insulating bandage, tightly wrapping the chip.
Two thin streams of blood flowed from her nostrils, but she didn't wipe them away.
"It's wrapped up!"
Wanda shouted.
"cut!"
Banner shouts.
Lynn inserted her finger into the incision and touched the blood vessels at the edge of the chip.
His fingertips trembled, not from fear, but from the heat emanating from the chip. The heat seeped through the blood vessel walls, numbing his fingertips. He pinched the first blood vessel and severed it with his fingernail. Blood spurted out, splashing onto his face, warm and carrying the smell of rust.
"The first rule!"
Tony's finger hovered over the button, his knuckles white.
"Article Two!"
Lynn snapped the second one off; even more blood floweddown Bucky's neck, forming a thin red stream in the groove of the operating table.
"Article Three!"
The moment Lynn severed the third blood vessel, Tonypressed the button.
There was no explosion, only a muffled "ding" sound, like the end tone of a microwave oven.
98 Bucky's body arched upwards suddenly, the straps snapped with a creak, and the back of his head slammed onto the operating table with a solid "thud."
Then it fell silent.
Bucky's pupils flickered three times between gray-blue and golden-green, finally settling on gray-blue.
His lips parted, and he exhaled a foul breath, with a slightly burnt smell, like a burnt electrical wire.
"It's stopped,"
Banner stared at the tablet, his voice hoarse.
"The chip... is carbonized. But the surrounding brain tissue..."
He zoomed in on the image.
The area where the chip was located became a black scorch mark, but around the scorch mark, Lynn's blood formed a dark red ring, like a fireproof wall, keeping the damage within three millimeters.
"He survived,"
Banner said his hands were shaking inside the rubber gloves, so he took them off and felt Bucky's carotid artery with his bare hands.
"Heartbeat is still present. Brain waves...normal."
Rogers didn't move.
He was still holding Bucky's face, forehead to forehead, his breath on Bucky's face. Bucky's eyelids fluttered, slowly closed, and then slowly opened again, this time his gray-blue pupils were focused.
"... Steve,"
Bucky said, his voice hoarse, but it was his own voice, "You…pressed my nose."
Rogers gave a short, almost coughing laugh.
He released his grip, straightened up, and his knees cracked from kneeling for so long. He took a step back, letting Banner come over to treat his wounds.
Wanda's Red Mist has fallen apart.
She fell backward, but Lynn caught her from behind. The back of her head hit his chest with a soft thud.
"Thirty-seven seconds,"
Tony looked at the timer on the remote control, his voice a little weak.
"You took thirty-seven seconds. I almost pressed the button too early."
"If you press it too early, it will be overcooked."
Lynn said.
His fingers were still dripping blood, and the wound in his elbow was healing, like a mouth that was breathing. He wiped the blood off his face with his other hand, leaving a dark red mark.
Wanda looked up at him, blood still dripping from her nose and lips. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
"...Your blood tastes awful."
"I didn't make you drink it,"
Lynn said.
"But I tasted it,"
Wanda said,
"When you were cutting, some splattered into my mouth. It tastes like rust."
"Iron supplementation,"
Lynn said.
Natasha released Bucky's shoulder, flexed her fingers, and her knuckles made a soft clicking sound. She glanced atRogers:
"Your knees are red."
"fine,"
Rogers said, bending down to rub his knees.
"Lighter than falling off a Fire car."
10:15 AM, Tony's Lab.
Tony extracted a piece of storage crystal, about the size of a fingernail, with charred edges, from the carbonized chip debris.
He plugged it into a special reader and connected it to the computer.
The screen flickered a few times, then displayed an audio waveform. Tony clicked play.
First came a very faint electrical noise, like an old radio tuning its frequency.
Then a man's voice came through, slightly husky, speaking quickly, as if rushing somewhere:
"If they hear this recording, it means the plan has failed. ADAM-1-PRIME wasn't a container; it was an accident. Accidents are more valuable than plans. Don't let it become me. Let it become itself."
The sound stopped.
The noise lasted for another two seconds, then it went completely silent.
Lynn stood in front of the screen, clutching a roll of bandage in his hand, which Banner had just thrown to him so he could bandage himself.
He wasn't bandaged; the bleeding had already stopped, and only a white line remained in the elbow crease.
"1974,"
Tony said, tapping his fingers on the screen.
"It was recorded before he died. It's stored in the chip's core as... an emergency measure."
"The unexpected is more precious than the plan,"
Wanda repeated it, her voice very soft.
She sat on the chair next to her, holding the glass of milk she hadn't finished. The glass had gone cold, and a thin film had formed on the surface.
Lynn placed the bandage on the table, and the metal tray made a very soft sound.
He looked down at his hand, at the white mark on his palm, and the red dot anchor Wanda had given him. The anchor was still there, but it was no longer hot; it looked like an ordinary mole.
"He admitted it,"
Lynn said the voice was flat, like a weather report.
"It's not a clause, it's a will."
"Um,"
Tony said he put the screwdriver back in his pocket, but this time it didn't turn.
"Your father may be a bit muddle-headed, but he's not completely muddle-headed."
Lynn didn't say anything.
He turned and walked slowly toward the door. He wasn't wearing his exoskeleton, and his T-shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing bloodstains on his forearms that hadn't been wiped clean.
Wanda put down the milk cup and followed, her steps still a little unsteady, but much more stable.
In the hallway, Pietro was still squatting in front of the vending machine when the bottle of Coke finally fell down and rolled to his feet.
He picked it up, looked up and saw Lynn and Wanda, and shook the bottle: "Surgery over? Want a Coke?"
"I won't drink,"
Lynn said.
"Then I'll drink it,"
Pietro unscrewed the cap, and bubbles sprayed out, splashing onto his hand.
Is Bucky alive?
"He's alive,"
Wanda said.
" What about Rogers?"
"They survived too,"
Lynn said,
"His knee may be ruined."
"It's better to have a broken knee than a broken brain,"
Pietro took a swig of Coke and burped.
Where is my sister?
Wanda reached out and ruffled Pietro's hair, making it even messier.
"I'm alive too. Go, buy another bottle of milk. Hot milk, please."
"Don't you not drink milk?"
"I want to drink now,"
Wanda said,
Add two spoonfuls of sugar.
Pietro muttered as he stood up and put coins into the vending machine. Lynn leaned against the wall, looking at the old light tubes on the hallway ceiling; one end was blackened, but they were still lit.
Wanda stood next to him, her shoulder against his, without saying a word.
"Unexpected events are more valuable than plans,"
Lynn suddenly said, her eyes still fixed on the light bulb.
"What he said makes a lot of sense."
"He's always been like,"
Wanda said,
"You just didn't believe it before."
"Now I believe it,"
Lynn said,
"But it was too late. He was dead, and the conversation was recorded."
"It's not too late,"
Wanda said,
"As long as the words live on, it doesn't matter who said them."
Lynn turned her head and looked at her. Her nosebleed had been wiped away, but the blood vessels in her whiteeyes were still there, like a crumpled piece of paper that had been unfolded.
"You've become more eloquent,"
He said.
"I learned it from you,"
Wanda said,
"One who stays near ink gets stained black."
"One is influenced by one's surroundings."
Lynn said.
"You are Mo,"
Wanda said,
"Don't pat yourself on the back."
Lynn smiled briefly, almost like a cough.
He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead behind her ear, his fingertips brushing against her earlobe; it was very hot.
"Then let's use ink,"
He said,
"At least it won't fade."
Chapter 99 The Locksmith's Lock
In the building's corridor, the floor suddenly pushed upwards at Lynn's feet. It wasn't a shake, but a push, like a hand giving her a push from below.
Wanda's paper cup tilted, and two drops of milk spilled out, landing on the back of her hand and burning her so much that she hissed.
"What..."
Pietro stood up from the corner, the Coke bottle on the ground, bubbles still rising.
Banner stumbled out of the lab, her shoulder scraping against the doorframe with a dull thud.
The tablet in his hand was beeping, not just a beeping sound, but a continuous buzzing, like someone had stuffed an alarm into a beehive.
"underground!"
Banner turned the screen towards the crowd, her fingers trembling.
"Ground readings. The frequency is the same as the chip inBucky's brain, but the power… the power is two orders of magnitude greater."
Tony followed, screwdriver in hand, knuckles white.
"The foundation maintenance agreement from the 1970s. Article 14 states that Party A has the right to activate the site protection device in an emergency. I thought it was a fire sprinkler system, but it turns out to be this thing. A resonator, buried in the foundation, connected to the seal of ADAM-0."
"how long?"
Lynn asked.
"Forty minutes,"
Banner swallowed.
"Forty minutes later, the resonant frequency reached the structural critical point. It wasn't the building collapsing, but the foundation liquefying. The entire building would sink, like sinking into a swamp."
Fury stepped out of the elevator, the hem of her trench coat still swaying:
" Locksmith Guild?"
"There's no one else but them,"
Tony said, "It's a legal breach of contract. The agreement states that it can be activated in an emergency, but the definition of 'emergency' is their own."
Lynn shoved the milk glass back into Wanda's hand:
"Location?"
"B7 and below,"
Banner pointed to the structural diagram on the screen.
"There is no elevator. There is only a maintenance shaft, 80 centimeters in diameter and 40 meters deep vertically. Then you walk 20 meters horizontally."
"I'll go!"
Lynn said.
I'll go too.
Wanda placed the milk glass on the windowsill.
"Narrow at the bottom,"
Lynn said,
"Eighty centimeters, not enough room to turn around."
"I can shrink,"
Wanda said.
"It's not about getting smaller..."
Wanda didn't wait for him to finish speaking.
She raised her wrist, and Red Mist poured out from her sleeve, but instead of spreading out, it rolled inward.
Her shoulders shrank in first, then her waist, then her legs, her whole body like a wrung-out towel, getting smaller and smaller, tighter and tighter with each twist.
Finally, it shrank into a fist-sized cloud of mist, so thick it couldn't dissipate, and drifted onto Lynn's left wrist, wrapping around it twice before remaining still.
Like a red jade bracelet, it was slightly warm, and you could see very fine threads flowing in the mist.
Lynn looked down at her wrist:
"...Can you even breathe like that?"
Wanda's voice came through the fog, muffled, as if she were speaking through a blanket:
"Yes, it's possible. It's just a bit crowded. Your pulse is beating too fast."
That's your misconception.
"It's not an illusion,"
The mist tightened slightly, like a hand squeezing his wrist.
You're nervous.
Tony watched this scene, his eyebrows raised high:
"...Is this considered carry-on luggage or live equipment?"
"It's a burden,"
Lynn walked toward the elevator.
"But you can't shake them off."
At 11:00 AM sharp, the B7 maintenance shaft was underway.
The manhole cover is round, made of cast iron, and the edges are rusted to a reddish-brown color.
Lynn and Rogers worked together to pry it open, the metal scraping together making a harsh, screeching sound. The well was pitch black, with a cool breeze rising up, carrying a pungent smell of rust and machine oil.
"I'm going down,"
Lynn said,
"You stay up there and keep watch. If I don't come up in forty minutes, weld the wellhead shut."
Rogers didn't argue; he simply bent down to inspect the ladder against the well wall, tapping the rungs with his fingers to confirm it was sturdy.
"...The ladder is rusty, but it can still bear weight. Step on it gently."
Lynn turned on the reactor, and a blue- white beam of light shone down, revealing that the well walls were made of mud, but the middle section had turned into metal, covered with a layer of sticky oil that looked like old snot. He slung his portable energy pack over his shoulder, grabbed the ladder with both hands, and started climbing down.
The Red Mist bracelet pulsed against his pulse, its temperature fluctuating.
"There's wind down below,"
"It's all in the fog," said the fog.
"It's the fan of the resonator,"
Lynn took a step down, bracing her hands against the metal well wall. When she lifted them, it made a very soft sound, like duct tape being torn.
"They're pumping air out."
"The fan is making me itchy."
"Bear with it."
Your hands are shaking.
"Oil-slippery,"
Lynn said,
"It's not shaking."
He climbed down about thirty meters, and his arms started to ache.
The reactor lights didn't reach the bottom; he could only see the horizontal bars about two meters below his feet. The air felt stuffy, like someone had put a damp cloth over his nose.
How much further?
Asking through the fog.
"Ten meters,"
Lynn said. He looked down and finally saw the bottom. It wasn't the bottom, but a horizontal fork in the road, square, like a mouse hole.
He jumped into the fork in the road, bent his knees, and landed softly to cushion the impact.
The passageway was low, requiring one to stoop to walk. The walls were exposed concrete, seeping with waterdroplets that glistened in the reactor's light.
The Red Mist on my wrist suddenly loosened up, like a cat stretching after waking up.
Then the mist rose and condensed into a human shape in front of him. Wanda stood in the passageway, bent over, her hair sticking up, her cheeks flushed.
"I'm suffocating!"
She said the sound had returned to normal volume.
"It's better to be human."
"You weren't fog to begin with,"
Lynn said.
"But fog doesn't require walking,"
Wanda rubbed her knees.
"Who dug this tunnel? Did the dwarf dig it?"
" Howard dug it,"
Lynn said,
"He's 1.75 meters tall, that's enough for him."
They walked forward with their backs bent. At the end of the passage was a light, not natural light, but a dim red light, like charcoal that had burned to its last embers.
At 11:50 a.m., in the core chamber of the resonator.
The room was smaller than I had imagined, about four square meters. In the middle stood a cylinder, half a meter high and forty centimeters in diameter, with honeycomb-shaped ventilation holes all over its surface.
A dark red light shone through the hole, and a fan whirred inside, like an overloaded computer mainframe.
The top of the cylinder has a groove, next to which is a fingerprint icon and a line of small print:
"STARK GENE LOCK".
Tony's voice came through the headphones, accompanied by crackling static:
"See that groove? Drip blood into it. Your gene sequencematches Howard's original sample the most closely. I was conceived naturally, my genes have been recombinated, so the purity isn't high enough. You... you're from a test tube, unmixed, 100% pure."
"Are you insulting me?"
Lynn crouched down and took a folding knife out of her pocket.
"I'm praising you,"
Tony said,
"Hurry up. There are only 27 minutes left."
Lynn cut open the pad of her left index finger.
Blood gushed out, more than he had expected. Wolverine's healing factor caused the wound to immediately begin to shrink, so he had to squeeze it out quickly. The blood dripped into the groove with a soft hissing sound, likewater dripping onto a red-hot iron plate.
The red light on the cylinder began to flash, the fan speed decreased, and the humming sound subsided.
But just as the red light was about to turn green, a hidden compartment popped open on the side of the cylinder, and with a click, it wasn't an electronic notification sound, but a purely mechanical unlocking sound.
A small metal compartment, about the size of a microwave oven, was revealed in the hidden compartment, its surface covered with a layer of white frost.
What is that?
Tony shouted into the earpiece.
"It's not on the structural diagram! Banner, check the original blueprints!"
Banner's voice interrupted, accompanied by the sound of keyboard typing:
"No! This space was empty in the blueprint! Howard added it in himself later!"
Lynn didn't say anything.
He reached out and pulled out the metal compartment. It was very light, and empty, or rather, it had been filled with something.
The hatch was transparent and covered in white frost. He rubbed it with his palm, and the frost melted, with waterdroplets trickling down the glass.
Inside was a clump of dried tissue, about the size of a fist, curled up. The skin was brown, wrinkled like a dried apple, and the limbs hadn't fully grown, just a few small protrusions. It wasn't human, nor animal; it was some kind of attempt that had been abruptly halted.
The label is on the side of the cabin, printed in black text:
"ADAM-0-ORIGIN".
Lynn turned the hull over. A yellowed piece of paper was pasted on the back of the label, curled at the edges, as if it had been soaked in water and then dried. The handwriting was in fountain pen, the ink faded to a grayish-black, but the last letter had a slight upward flick— Howard's habit, one he couldn't break.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have started."
There was no signature, but Lynn recognized the handwriting. Like the signature on the agreement, it was crooked and illegible, but written with great force, so much so that the back of the paper bulged out.
Tony was still shouting in my headphones:
" Lynn? The readings are now with Zero! The resonator has stopped! What's the situation on your end?"
Lynn didn't answer immediately. He stared at the paper for about ten seconds.
Then tear it off, fold it in half, fold it in half again, and stuff it into your pocket. The movement is slow, like putting away a winning lottery ticket, or returning an IOU to a creditor.
"It's stopped,"
He said the voice was very flat.
"Let's talk about it up there."
Wanda stood behind him, remaining silent. She didn't look at the metal pod, but only at Lynn's pockets:
"What did you receive?"
"Receipt,"
Lynn said,
"The old man's IOU."
Wanda reached out and pressed against the outside of his pocket, feeling the sharp edges of the paper:
What do I owe you?
"One life,"
Lynn pushed the metal compartment back into the hidden compartment, and it clicked shut.
"But he couldn't pay it back. So he wrote 'I'm sorry'."
Wanda withdrew her hand and didn't ask any more questions.
She turned and walked towards the passage, her footstepsmaking a very soft sound on the muddy, watery ground.
"...Climb up. Go up and drink some hot milk. Three spoonfuls of sugar."
Lynn followed her, hunching over as she squeezed into the tunnel. The Red Mist on her wrist didn't wrap around her again. Wanda walked ahead, her figure stretched long in the reactor's light.
At 12:20 PM, at the entrance of shaft B7.
Tony and Banner crouched at the well's edge, reaching out to pull Lynn up. Tony's fingertips touched Lynn's wrist, and he paused for a moment:
"Your hands are cold."
"It's cold down there,"
Lynn said.
"What did you find?"
Lynn took the folded piece of paper out of her pocket, handed it to Tony, and said nothing.
Tony unfolded it, glanced at it, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything.
Banner leaned closer to look; his glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose. He pushed them up, and they slipped down again.
"ORIGIN," Banner murmured, her voice seeming to come from a great distance.
"Even earlier than ADAM-0. Your dad... made a mistake first."
"Um,"
Lynn said,
"The cost of trial and error is quite high."
He walked slowly down the corridor.
Wanda followed beside Lynn, carrying a cup of hot milk that Pietro had just bought, the paper cup bearing the Stark Industries logo. She handed the cup to Lynn.
"drink,"
She said.
Lynn took it, took a sip, and found it to be the perfect temperature, but cloyingly sweet. He frowned.
"Too much sugar was added."
"Three spoonfuls,"
Wanda said,
"I counted them."
"greasy."
"It's good that you're tired of it."
Wanda said,
"Once you get tired of it, you can't forget it."
Lynn took another sip and stopped complaining.
He held a glass of milk in one hand and had the other in his pocket, his fingertips tracing the edges of the paper. The corridor light bulbs were old, one side blackened, but they were still lit.
Waiting for more chapters on WTR-Lab