Three more weeks had passed since Wolverine left us. I was still suffering agonizingly from the fact that I had ended up in a fairy tale, but had flown by with the fairy-tale beauties, but fried potatoes, cocoa and American cookies with chocolate chips were gradually reconciling me with reality. By the way, white American bread (well, the one that is square and a little sweet) is also quite a good thing. At first I was shy of it, remembering the domestic "sliced" bread with longing and nostalgia, but then I got a taste for it - the main thing was to choose the right sausage for it! Such a fateful expansion of my horizons, however, went unnoticed by anyone, but the professor and I crushed the professors, and now the initiative was fucking the initiators to the envy and gossip of all the students. Alas, I wasn't allowed to install any plasma turrets, or armored doors and windows, or even a couple of robots. It's not that I was really eager... but sometimes it would come over me. I wanted a canonical steel citadel with saw guns, lasers, and an entire training hall with material holograms of the most terrible creatures on Earth to beat up the unfortunate students.
For some reason, when I expressed such ideas, people who canonically (in cartoons, but who cares?) invented this thing, looked at me strangely, once again proving to me that the Marvel Cinematic Universe sucks. No, I had like-minded people. Mostly, from my students... Only from my students... I can't say that they knew all the ins and outs of my ideas - I prudently didn't tell them about throwing circular saws and sparring with the Hulk (so as not to spoil the surprise, of course!), but they supported me, yes. In my lessons, mostly, but they supported me...
And yes, now once a week I gave a lesson on ancient history with visual aids in the form of illusions of people, objects and houses of that time. Oddly enough, it was fun. Although I did not even emphasize the reasons that prompted the past Loki to dislike the Vikings and other Nordic Germans.
But let's get back to the security system. It wasn't hard to rework it to better detect intrusions - even Earth technology could track Mystic's penetration or a night-time perimeter breach by some special forces, it just took a little creativity and a little magic. A trained professional can bypass any sensor, but how can he bypass it if he doesn't know it exists? Same with everything else.
I did not leave work on the "X-gene stimulator 2.0", simultaneously studying the data provided by Xavier, having already found in the archive a very interesting surname "Striker". Another no less interesting surname to me, "Stark", was also in place, slowly giving the first signs of preparation for its funeral. I mean, in the film, as soon as Tony realized that he was dying, he began to make advances towards a beautiful exit, the main one of which was the opening of the innovation festival "Stark Expo", which was announced on the news literally the next day after the closing of the UN summit, and this immediately became the hottest news, behind which all the recent cries about mutants and the registration law were lost at once. By the way, Senator Kelly, who abruptly "changed" his position, is included.
In general, I studied the world around me more and more, and the world, in the person of one sensitive telepath, studied me. Conversations about history, Asgard, the Nine Worlds and other things somehow imperceptibly became a tradition for us, as did games of chess. But in addition to the above, I found interesting things to do related to my unrivaled charisma, charm and other great virtues. To be more precise, one fine day, Miss Ororo finally accepted my invitation to sit in a cozy restaurant one evening and pay tribute to fried chicken, duck and other gifts of nature...
- You look simply indescribably magnificent, oh beautiful goddess! - I was not at all disingenuous. The black silk dress perfectly matched the girl's skin color and made Storm's beautiful pearl-white locks seem downright mystical. - Your hair shines, surpassing the moon silver of the dwarves. I am completely in awe and admiration.
"Loki… that sounds quite embarrassing," the lady's cheeks darkened slightly, showing that my compliments did not go unnoticed.
– The truth may be embarrassing, but it never ceases to be the truth, – I straightened my "dandy" suit and extended my hand to the girl. – Shall we go, my beautiful lady? – after a little hesitation, the mulatto woman nevertheless accepted the gesture of concern, and we followed with decorum and nobility to the executive car I had called in advance, which took us to one of the trustworthy and flattering reviews of New York restaurant critics. Well, and there, having dismissed the driver, we went into the hall, sat down at the reserved table and made an order. While it was being prepared, we were brought wine and light snacks to go with it. An "awkward", from Storm's point of view, silence set in.
"Loki," the girl began after hesitating a bit, "this invitation… all this is, of course, very nice, but…"
"I know," I take a sip, "you don't have any romantic feelings for me, and that's unlikely to change."
Ah, as expected, the local wine is a very high-quality product, but compared to the real Asgardian... that's what I needed to grab in my subspace pocket! I wonder if Odin will be very upset if I raid his fiefdom with the aim of plundering the wine cellar and stealing the mead supplies? Or will he wipe away a stingy male tear and say: "My boy finally behaves like an Aesir!"?
"I'm sorry," she was clearly very embarrassed, and… it touched me.
- You have nothing to apologize for, and besides, it's completely normal and reasonable.
- Reasonable? - She didn't understand. - So you assumed something like that?
- Of course, - with a kind, but characteristic of Loki (that is, a little asking for a brick) smile, I spread my hands, - we have known each other for less than a month, and even then you mostly ran away from me and secretly read the Elder Edda. And what kind of romantic feelings can we talk about after this psychedelic thriller in the scenery of schizophrenia and sexual perversions of the most vile and unnatural form? I am amazed that you even have the courage to talk to me after this pamphlet, - I playfully salute the girl with my glass and take another sip.
- A... Um... - the mulatto woman began to gasp for air, her cheeks noticeably darkening. - How do you know? - and her look was so frightened and scared, as if she were not an adult woman, but a teenage girl, whom her dad caught peeping into the men's shower.
"Let's just say," another sip, which was powerless to drive the satisfied grin off my face, "this isn't my first time on Earth and I've had time to study what people do when they find out my true identity.
"I see…" Storm's eyes darted around the room.
"Yes," I confirmed, slightly pushing the glass towards her with magical telekinesis.
"And it doesn't bother you?" the blonde beauty noticed the movement and looked at me again.
"I feel very sorry for you," I emphasize the word with a breathy voice, "but I still admire your courage."
"Oh," Ororo picked up the glass and took a few sips, trying to calm her nerves. Once she had done so, the girl met my gaze, took a deep breath through her mouth, and spoke: "And then what?"
"Anything you want," I shrug. "A playful and non-committal affair, a stormy romance with theaters and restaurants, something youthful with sweet romance, moonlit walks, wild flowers and going to the cinema, or just innocent friendship with a touch of light flirting. I'm not going to force you into anything… Although, of course, I'll be upset if you get up now, punch me in the face and leave, so please don't do that," I wink at the girl with another grin.
"I won't," Storm agreed accommodatingly, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds, "but explain to me what you want from all this?" she leaned forward with some more active interest and even excitement. "And why do you need this?"
- What do you mean, "why"? - I asked, almost without pretending, surprised. - You are a wonderful girl. Kind, responsible, serious. You get along with children, single-handedly take care of a disabled father and a couple of step-relatives, you are a superhero who literally just saved the world, and all this while managing to work as a simple school teacher. I like you. You are perfect! What other reasons do you need to justify my sympathy?
"This is..." they pointed their index finger at me, once again gasping for air, only now they also tilted their head.
"No matter how you look at it, it's true," I nodded sympathetically, continuing to smile charmingly.
"And why did this happen to me?" the blonde mulatto shook her head with a sigh.
- Because you are smart, beautiful, an athlete, a Komsomol member... oh, no, unfortunately, the last point is not there, but everything else is there, so be patient.
"It was a rhetorical question," Storm rolled her eyes.
Here the dishes we had ordered were brought to us, and for a while a new silence settled at the table. This time, it was concentrated.
"So," my companion began speaking again, tearing herself away from her dinner, "you'll be okay with nothing happening between us?"
"It's not the most ideal option, but yes: it will suit me," I nod, finishing chewing a piece of chicken.
- So you like me, but... you don't like me? - about women...
- Oh, Storm! - It was very difficult for me not to laugh, but I managed to hold back - a wide smile on half my face does not count. - You managed to guess and be completely wrong at the same time. I really like you. Jokes aside, you can be admired as a work of art, your presence is pleasant to me, and I like your character, but this does not mean that my thoughts revolve only around how to drag you into bed. No, of course, if you wished for something like that, even a modest and sweet God would be very pleased, but I still consider myself a creature somewhat superior to the standard male with his impulses, and therefore the aesthetic pleasure of admiring you, as well as the enjoyment of your reaction to my admiration, will suit me perfectly.
"So," she rubbed the bridge of her nose, "you want to say that, ahem… you wouldn't be at all against… well, with me, but you like devouring me with an admiring gaze no less?"
– To remain friends with a beautiful and kind girl may not be as wonderful as being in a closer relationship with her, but it is still immeasurably better than being enemies with her or never meeting her at all.
"Loki…" Ororo tiredly closed her eyes, touching her face with her fingers, "you… Loki," the look of a man completely confident in the madness of his interlocutor was attached.
"I'll take that as a compliment," I sipped my wine. "And while you're deciding what place to give me in the friend zone, or whether to give me one at all, what do you think about the local cuisine? Should I pay a courtesy visit to the restaurant critics, or were they right?"
"Oh, the ancient Scandinavian god speaks in jargon like a twenty-year-old kid and makes it his goal to just stare at me," Storm sighed sadly.
– Don't forget about the critics! Feedback is very important in the advertising business – without it, people start lying, – I put some rice in my mouth.
"Are you really going to visit them?" Ororo raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
"Well, not personally – I'll send an illusion, but that won't make things any easier for them," I honestly admitted my vile plans.
"You don't think that after this I'll say a single word to reproach the local dishes?" Now a fair amount of irony was reflected on Monroe's face.
- That's what I was counting on! - I lift my fork importantly.
- So you admit that you are now blackmailing me with the threat of brutal reprisals against several innocent people if I say something unpleasant about the kitchen of the restaurant where you took me? - the liar from Storm is so-so - I wouldn't give her feigned indignation and amazement even three points on a ten-point scale.
- Mmm-mmm-mmm... - I pretended to be deep in thought. - No. I'm just very honest. And fair.
- Honest in what? - now a smile appeared on her face.
- In my intentions.
- And fair?
- In my intentions.
"And why isn't this blackmail?" she tilted her head to the side.
- Because I don't want to get you to lie.
- Explain it normally already.
– I am the God of Deception, no one has the right to lie to me. If I was lied to in reviews, then the critics deserve my divine punishment. And I told you everything because you asked. I promised that everything would be as you wanted, – I wink at the girl and raise my glass again.
- ... Okay, - Storm sighed after a long minute. - I like everything, the food here is very tasty. And I'm not trying to deceive you. And... you still can't be convinced, right? - I nodded and spread my hands. - Then okay... you can continue doing what you were doing... no matter how strange it sounds and no matter how much I understand that you would have continued it anyway...
"Thank you very much," I smiled my best smile.
- Now let's just eat this wonderful chicken and try hard to pretend that this conversation never happened, okay?
"As my beautiful goddess wishes," and she darkened her cheeks again and looked away.
Be that as it may, such a conversation, albeit in a rather frivolous vein, relieved the tension of the young mutant and raised her spirits quite well, although she would hardly admit to the latter, and in general all this was outrageous, immoral, and so on. The rest of the conversation passed in a much calmer and freer manner, and in the evening, having escorted the lady to her chambers, I even received a kiss. A chaste one and on the cheek. All in all, a good evening, I will have to repeat it sometime.
***
Contrary to initial expectations, the topic of mutation captivated me, especially since I could not find the Kamar-Taj branch in New York. It's not that I was running around the streets like a scalded cat for days on end and listening to the magical background, but I devoted a couple of days a week to searching, but to zero. It seems that somewhere in the films there was a note for Thor with the exact address, but I could not remember its contents, despite the capabilities of Loki's brain, after all, my original brain remained in another world, and the transfer to the "new carrier", no matter how it was carried out, clearly copied only more or less active memory, and not all its depths from the moment of birth. I managed to restore the appearance of the building's façade in my mind, but New York is a big city, you can't comb through it quickly. Stark, too, was not going wild yet, so it was too early to get to know him, but there were mutants around for every taste and color. I mean, besides the gorgeous beauties, Storm was the only one who saved me here, but let's thank the universe for that too. Storm is a cutie.
But I digress. Having dug into the tests and medical records of the residents of Xavier's school, I... no, I didn't isolate the X-gene, for that I would have to slaving away at the Earth technical base for five or even ten years, given that I... well, that is, the original Loki - the creator of Sleipnir, Odin's divine eight-legged horse capable of flight. But I realized that I could help with the students' clumsy abilities in ninety percent of cases. Take the Cyclops. His eyes emitted a certain spectrum of corpuscular-wave radiation, which, nevertheless, could be completely extinguished with a light filter with suppression of the required spectrum. That is, as soon as I learned the composition of the glass in his visor and read how the experiments were carried out to select this composition, I could easily create an optical illusion that would do the same thing. But an illusion is not a huge thing that takes up half of a face, it can be made small - just under the surface of the eyeball. Then transfer the spell scheme into a rune form, add a mental shutdown block, tattoo it on Scott's head, having previously shaved it, but the hair will grow back, and voila - the guy can walk around without glasses, without the slightest risk of destroying the area while washing. All intelligent beings have magical energy, some have more, some less, and even an untrained person will have more than enough to maintain a tiny illusion of volume. And it costs me literally a couple of hours of work to do something like this.
Having realized this state of affairs, I did not think long and decided to have a heart-to-heart talk with Charles, after all, he was the most interested party. It must be said that he also taught several lessons for his students, so I had to tactfully wait until he finished his favorite literature. And only after letting a crowd of excited children through the door, in the process rewarding a couple of especially nimble ones with thematic horns like a little devil, I went inside. Storm, who was just about to teach them math, would, of course, notice my prank and would say something to me about it later, but that would be later. Moreover, running along the corridors is prohibited, so I have the right, let her be the one to scold the violators on my "tip".
- Do you have a minute? - closing the door behind me, I attract the attention of the professor, who was immersed in examining a stack of some papers. The children were probably writing a report.
- Loki? - Xavier looked up at me. - Of course, come in. - The sheets of paper were put aside, and the invalid's whole posture depicted a readiness to listen.
- I'm talking about Magneto's machine and mutants in general, - I go to the guest chair. There were many of those here - Charles taught his lessons not in classrooms, but in a cozy furnished room with many randomly placed chairs and sofas, although there were tables here too, without them you can't really write anything down. - In the first one, I already figured out how to increase the chances of survival for irradiated percent to forty and how to make the process safe for the operator, but I'm not sure that this should be implemented in metal.
- So, even with Asgard technology, a person's chance of survival will be less than fifty percent? - the telepath frowned. It seemed to me that he didn't really like that I was working in this direction, but he didn't try to forbid it.
- It can be increased to sixty, and even to ninety, if we try hard, but that's not the point, because even at forty we have at least five million mutants when using the installation on New York or a city of similar population. The problem is not in the success of awakening the X-gene, but in its quality. Correct me if I'm wrong, but about half of your students have some problems with controlling their powers, and almost always it is not the fault of their motivation and efforts.
- Yes, unfortunately, problems of this kind are encountered more and more often by mutants, - the professor nodded, sadly clasping his hands in front of his face. - In such cases, we try to help by finding technical solutions, like, for example, with Scott and his eyes, but the problem is really quite serious.
- Yes, if you can still get used to living with glasses, then living without being able to touch anyone is already torture, - I closed my eyes understandingly. - And it seems to me that the reason for such errors in the genome is that the mass awakening of the X-gene began prematurely. Radiation, cell phone radiation, chemicals in the air and food, all sorts of GMOs and other environmental pollution - these are also hostile factors that can provoke the mobilization of the body's resources for its own defense and, as a result, the activation of genes that are in a latent state. As a result, we get the same effect as Magneto's machine, but quiet and without special effects. Meanwhile, the combination of nucleotides in DNA is not complete, it needed several more generations of successful crossing for this, and even if it works, there is nothing surprising that it works as a raw prototype.
- Are you sure about this?
- About seventy percent, - I shrug. - To be completely sure, I need Asgard equipment, several years of research and a lot... a lot of samples to collect statistics. But this is actually just a preface. And I wanted to discuss what I can do to help such mutants in your school, - and I outlined my conclusions.
"What do you want from me?" Charles asked briefly after finishing the story, making it clear at once that he was "for".
"To convince Jean that she doesn't need to declare war on me for making her boyfriend bald for a couple of weeks," I smile at the telepath.
"I don't think it will be too difficult," Charles returned the smile.
- Do you think so? - I continue the game.
"I have every reason to believe that Dr. Gray has no prejudice against people without hair on their heads," the most famous bald man in the world assured me with firm confidence in his entire posture.
"Oh yeah, I always forget," I feign embarrassment, pretending to have darting eyes under Xavier's understanding smile.
In general, as the professor promised, there were no problems with Doctor Gray, although what problems could there be? We both knew perfectly well that the girl would have no complaints, and my "request for help" was just a tribute to politeness and a notification of intentions, as always, dressed in a half-joking form. Cyclops, in fact, did not object either and for the sake of getting rid of the rather annoying glasses or the completely uncomfortable "combat visor" was ready for sacrifices more serious than the banal shaving of his head and winning back a bowling ball. But in general ... Logan would have appreciated a shaved Scott, especially with a strip of runic ligature on his skull ... Huh? What? Why a camera? This is scientific research - we need to record the course of the experiment! Where did Cyclops get Hitler's mustache in the photo, and then the Cossack forelock? All this is your primitive earthly equipment! He has such terrible errors in capturing the image, such terrible... Do you really not believe me? No? Strange...
But the creative streak of the humble God is not alive only with Scott Summers. I was carried away. I knew it myself, but I could not stop my naughty hands. And frankly speaking, I did not want to. It is not difficult for me, and the children are really happy, so why not? Take Pyro, for example. The guy could control fire and amplify it quite well - blowing up a candle flame to the level of a jet flamethrower was no problem for him, but creating fire, even at the level of that very candle, was already impossible for him. My delicate mental organization experienced truly terrible torment due to the fact that we have a pyromancer here who is unable to access matches. So I simply could not, had no right to pass by! But my pride did not allow me to repeat myself and make a stylish tattoo on the fireman's hands. As a result, the guy's hands acquired small ceramic implants on top of the bones. I didn't even cut anything - I implanted the material with magic and formed the structure of the artifacts under the flesh. There was nothing complicated there either, just when I snapped my fingers, a small thin tongue of magical flame flared up above my palm, which Pyro himself could then blow up to any size. There was happiness... But Bobby, who is Iceman, was upset for some reason, I don't even know why... A joke. The guy was happy for his friend.
I also worked with Rogue. I immediately rejected the options of a micron-thick "power" barrier - too complicated and energy-consuming. She simply does not have the strength to maintain such a barrier constantly, and I do not have the strength here either. Of course, if we are talking about a strong barrier, and not a fiction that will be torn by the first drop of sweat or the movement of a hair. Teaching her to apply protection independently at the right moment was also unrealistic, if only because the level of such a barrier itself was beyond the capabilities of a neophyte, and spending ten years on mastering the discipline, and even without a guarantee of success ... is long and ineffective. But if you can't go one way, then we will go another, all according to the testament of Ilyich. Since the "protective" configurations clearly did not suit the girl, then why not try the "prison" ones? It just so happened that the methods of neutralizing mages and creatures with special abilities were well developed in Asgard... well, due to the vital necessity generated by constant wars with various mythical creatures. This development, in particular, took the form of shackles-suppressors, a couple of which any warrior of Asgard carries with him when going on a military campaign. Loki also carried such in his subspace pocket, seeing nothing shameful in first twisting and then thoughtfully interrogating an enemy sorcerer for an exchange of experience instead of a quick death. In other words, the sorcerer exchanges his experience for extra minutes of life.
In short, I had a working method, a reliable tool, and a person to whom all this had to be adjusted. Moreover, as far as I knew, such devices, that is, mutant power suppressor collars, appeared in Marvel, and even seemed to exist in the cinematic universe, but where, and most importantly, when they appeared, I could not say. In the cinematic universe, this was shown within the framework of the Deadpool story, but ... the entire Wade branch looks complete nonsense and idiocy even against the background of a black man running S.H.I.E.L.D. Nevertheless, it was clear where to go, so I moved.
The hardest part was defining Rogue's "absorption" spectrum... Of course, using a term that defines the color of an object when light hits it is not very suitable here, to put it mildly, but for lack of a suitable term, let this one do. So, having defined the method of influence, having isolated it from the main spectrum, all that was left for me was to "resolder" the shackles to the desired direction. Well, and, having removed all the unnecessary, turn them into elegant bracelets. Also not the most trivial task, but after all those dances with tambourines (sometimes literally), which I had to jump around the girl anyway, it was no longer serious.
Well, after all this, I decided on the "mutual dislike" of Jubilee and household appliances more complex than a toaster in passing, while I was messing around with Marie - that's where I just needed to remove the unconscious "leak" of her energy. A simple pendant-absorber - and the problem is solved. In general, I fully deserved the title of the best friend of mutants and still had to fight off Rogue, who, having received the opportunity to touch all people "with impunity", wanted to take out all her delight and thirst for affection on one charming God at the same time. And personally, I had nothing against such an approach, but ... if only she were prettier ... oh. In short, I handed her over to Iceman and ran away to the workshop under lock and key. What to do? It's not us, it's life! And anyway, I'm terribly busy, I still... uh-uh, right, I need to solder a holoprojector on the local elementary base to the dimensions of a wristwatch, so that it displays a hologram of a normal person for those mutants whose appearance has been distorted. Yes, yes, this is a very complex and painstaking process for a master of illusions, please do not interfere and leave the room!
That's how my everyday life passed in the hospitable mutant community. It was quite fun, and such "socially useful" deeds gave me a couple of points in the eyes of the hot mulatto girl, but it didn't solve the problem of finding mages and didn't bring me any closer to a way to leave this sad world, and that was already a little sad. However, I wasn't allowed to indulge in this feeling for long, because the opening of Stark Expo took place...
***
It was... stylish. A little narcissistic, quite embellished, a little vulgar, but stylish. To my shame, I happily missed the opening of the exhibition itself, because I wasn't interested in local television and anyway I had a lesson that day, in which I enthusiastically showed the kids in colors and panoramic illusions how the ancestors of their classmate Pyotr Rasputin (known to the masses as "Colossus") cynically bent over the Vikings. And so I could only watch Anthony Stark's self-praise from the Stark Expo rostrum on tape, and even then only after I had watched his epic rinsing of the Senate committee on the issue of Iron Man technology in the choicest shit with shaving foam.
What can I say? Tony is a handsome man. I would have done better, but he is still a handsome man, even though he is an American patriot, but everyone has their shortcomings. And yes, my "better" would have been much more painful, more offensive and would have cost all those involved and the most active congressmen, senators and military officials their careers, property and, very possibly, their lives.
…I won't say that I saw anything reprehensible in this. On the contrary, I really thought it was the best option…
Lately, I've been treating people strangely. I mean, I live and work in America, I have a bunch of... well... at least American friends, but I still consider Western barbarians, from Poland to San Francisco, creatures whose lives are not worth an extra minute of my time spent on persuading them. If you think about it, even the fact that I call them "Western barbarians" was already a pretty serious wake-up call, but understanding with my mind the wrongness of my state, I could do little - I simply did not care at all about their lives and feelings. The exception were those with whom I managed to more or less become friends, but I would not risk my life for them either. Additional dissonance was added to the picture by the fact that I liked to do good deeds. That is, I was ready to easily kill even the entire population of the USA and then, at the same time, was ready to help part of this population to the best of my ability. From such a jumble even the balls in my head were going crazy, but at least no manic urges have happened yet.
But let's get back to Tony Stark. After evaluating his public appearances, I found them very familiar, and so, without thinking twice, I decided to visit the prodigal billionaire. He lived in constant travel and flights, but he still had a permanent apartment, if you can call a three-story mansion in Malibu on the seashore and with a multi-level basement for a car collection that. I had to get to California on my own, although Xavier most likely would not refuse to let me take his plane for a ride, after all, I saved his world, made life much easier for a bunch of students and am generally a charmer. But, firstly, I was not eager to dedicate the X-Men to my plans for Stark ahead of time, secondly, the Blackbird was certainly a good plane, but I had doubts about its stealth, especially for the time it would have to wait for me on the ground, and thirdly, I was simply more interested in riding the local light aviation lines. Anyway, I got there. And yes, this was the very same mansion where Tony created his armor - it was hard not to recognize the setting, as well as the four sets of armor displayed under glass in the workshop. There was also the very first homemade Humpty Dumpty, assembled by Stark in a cave from some junk, and a steel prototype that one black guy was later supposed to steal, well, and the final version of the golden-red color in two copies, which had already managed to thunder around the world.
Getting into the estate was no more difficult than getting through the open doors of a restaurant. No, Tony had a high-level security system, but Earth technology simply didn't allow me to be seen if I didn't want it. It was much more difficult to find Stark himself in this palace. Even on the threshold of death, he was a natural electric broom, always jumping somewhere and doing something, and his bickering with Pepper Potts… It was something between "young spouses - ten years of marriage", "a good-for-nothing hooligan brother and a responsible sister trying to set his brains straight", "a cheeky schoolboy and a strict teacher", "a tyrant boss and a poor secretary" and, finally, "two nervous psychopaths on the road". And both of them got a lot of pleasure from their bickering, although Miss Potts tried with all her might to show the opposite.
One way or another, having wandered like an inaudible shadow behind the billionaire for several hours, I was able not only to listen to a wide variety of information noise, including conversations about life with some kind of artificial intelligence that responded to "Jarvis," but also to form a preliminary opinion about Stark.
It must be said that outwardly he completely corresponded to his image from the films, but there was a very important detail: Anthony Stark in the films was a very different person, I would even say that in different films he was different characters. And I am not talking about the fact that during the release of the Avengers series, three different people were his father, one of the options for his mother was a man, and even his black friend completely changed his appearance once. The fact is that in different films he really showed contradictory character traits. Sometimes he twists the government's desires to obtain its technologies on the genital organ, then after a couple of films he is the first to run to sign enslaving contracts to subordinate the Avengers to the authorities, and even provokes a war among the personnel, arranging the beating of a bunch of superhumans in a densely populated city. Sometimes he flies to beat up all sorts of militants in the Persian Gulf region, sometimes he doesn't give a damn about information about some guys selling weapons using alien technology in his hometown and at the same time being strong enough to almost kill Spider-Man without any losses to himself. In general, sometimes he's a selfless hero, sometimes a dickish indifferent person, sometimes he's a self-respecting smart and far-sighted strategist, sometimes an obedient lackey of the authorities, and so on - there's a lot to remember. And all this uncertainty with "I'm building an Avengers tower, then I'm selling an Avengers tower", it worried me a lot. Somehow I didn't want to deal with a crazy idiot-billionaire who was capable of creating the most advanced earthly weapon on his knee.
So, getting back to the opinion formed during the observation process. And this opinion sounded like... "who the hell knows!" I mean, Stark certainly created the impression of an eccentric idiot wasting his life, but I often create such impressions myself, but what was hidden behind this external game, it seemed impossible to determine in one day. So all I could do was patiently wait for him to go to bed, so that I could calmly dig into his memory.
He had to wait for a relatively long time. This restless one obviously had a meter-long awl below his back, and the fact that he was dying a little and his body simply could not keep up such a rhythm did not bother Stark. But by the beginning of the third hour of the night, fatigue finally took its toll, and the local mad genius finally deigned to pass out. Well, finally! I was already seriously thinking about carefully applying magic to him.
"Okay, let's see what's on your mind, Mr. Stark," finding myself at the "client's" bedside, I didn't take off my disguise to avoid the attention of any random Jarvises, but I still wasn't shy about giving a little expression to the surrounding environment.
And then there were Tony's memories. And they were... peculiar. No, I remembered the diagram of his ARC reactor and Iron Man suit, but... I needed to step away from what I had seen and come to my senses. This guy is a Genius with a capital G. And the saying "if you want to live, you'll do even more" was copied from him. So, for starters... there really was shrapnel in his body, and at first they really did insert a magnet into his chest. How he didn't kick the bucket from such an "operation" right in captivity, probably only the captive surgeon knew, another mad genius, but only from medicine. Why the hell he did such a thing, though, I had no idea, but hey, mad geniuses are almost the same as brainless ones - their bursts of inspiration are not subject to logic. Nevertheless, the fact remained a fact - fragments of a landmine penetrated his body and, although they did not have time to reach the heart, brain or other vital organs, they systematically turned his cardiovascular system into mincemeat. But... tormented by continuous pain, with multiple internal bleeding and suspecting that he had very, very little time left to live, Stark created his "reactor". It would seem that how could an ordinary... well, okay, not quite ordinary, but in no way related to medicine energy installation be able to save him? Tony himself did not know, he even assembled the reactor stupidly so as not to carry a heavy battery in his hands, because he was already feeling too bad, and when he felt better, he did not bother much - he had more important things to do. True, after the escape, he prudently did not let the doctors. But his independent research also did not bring results - all the devices showed quite normal indicators. So the billionaire decided not to bother, he works - and that's fine. But for me, having Loki's knowledge, there was a reason to fall into a stupor and sacred awe. This... Brilliant Idiot, without knowing it, managed to build a purely technical portal to the dimension of Living Light!
I even touched the reactor when I moved away from the guess a little, but yes, it was weak, barely noticeable, but it emanated the energy of the Living Light!
In magic, there are, let's say, three most powerful sources of Power that determine the interactions of spheres of existence and other interesting mystical things. So, the undirected Power is simply called magical energy. It is universal and generally accessible. In theory, any reasonable person can master it. In practice, everything is highly individual and depends on the efforts and talent of this very reasonable person, plus the magical background is a heterogeneous thing, and, as a rule, it is more practical for weak sorcerers who do not have noticeable reserves of their own power to draw energy from some adjacent dimension, each of which imposes its own shade on it, which also plays a role, well, simply due to compatibility. In addition to this undirected and impersonal energy, there are two more antipodal Powers. Dark Power and Living Light. And although the names do not quite reflect the content, they are correct. The degree of "reasonableness" of these Powers is also not exactly known. If Magic is definitely faceless and universal, then the last two... no one knows for sure, doubts and suspicions on this issue have tormented many mystics for centuries. But let's return to, so to speak, personalities. Dark Force is great for working with space-time, and also, according to some data, negatively affects the user's character. Nevertheless, the same Odin masterfully owns this direction. Although... the character of the "daddy" is something else, so the theory has some basis. True, it is still not clear what is the chicken and what is the egg: is it easier for ass-men to get to the right dimension or does the connection with this dimension make an ass-man out of a reasonable one? This is a great mystery. Oh yeah, and the "Dark Side" is also canonically inhabited by all sorts of demons, monsters and other riffraff, like Dormammu, who doesn't mind eating the guts, or even the soul, of an unlucky magician who decides to blunder into their domain without preparation. The Living Light, on the contrary, strives towards Love and Good, and therefore by default heals, blesses and incinerates everyone who has "Darkness". Is it worth clarifying that even a saint has at least a small piece of "dark thoughts"? So in addition to protection and healing, the user of this Force can arrange terror and mass destruction no worse than others. However, if Magic is spilled in everything that exists and its streams are everywhere, then the Dark Force and the Living Light "live" exclusively in their dimensions, which are very difficult to break through to - not every magician, even experienced and skilled, will dare to mess with these Forces and dimensions. All the more incredible was Stark's discovery. A real portal to the dimension of Living Light. Albeit small, albeit one-sided, but fully functional and requiring no effort from the user! Any wizard would give his right arm and both legs for something like that without a second thought - he would still be able to grow new ones very quickly on such a source. Even Tony, who was completely alien to mysticism, was able to neutralize the injuries inflicted and still being inflicted by shrapnel using only the passive influence of the dimension. And he noticed other "strange" properties of his reactor, for example,protection of the carrier from damage. No matter how good the armor was, it did not cancel the laws of conservation of energy and momentum, and a tank shell taken "on the chest" should have turned the body under the armor into a fine mush, even if the armor itself withstood the blow. But... nothing of the sort happened. The Living Light from the reactor absorbed the damage and protected the carrier with its field. Actually, this was one of the reasons why in all armor models the "power element" was located in the front, although all the experience of people and just Common Sense said that putting the "engine" almost on the "frontal armor", which always takes the brunt of the damage, is complete idiocy.
But not everything was so good. The Living Light is a powerful thing, but not omnipotent, and without the will of the magician to guide it, it is also not very "smart". Yes, it stopped obvious damage, forcing the vessels cut with small fragments to continue to deliver blood where it is needed, the lungs to pump air and other organs to work, ignoring the presence of simply open holes and foreign objects in itself, but it was not enough even to get rid of shrapnel and fully heal, and there was a more serious problem. The nuclear fusion reactor remained a nuclear fusion reactor, and therefore, even with all possible insulation and protection, it emitted a lot of radiation. By the way, it worked on palladium, a harmless noble metal of the platinum group, from which medical instruments, pacemaker parts, dentures and a lot of other things are made, including contact units in electronics, which is due to its high wear resistance and corrosion resistance. Yes, yes, those same contacts in the warhead guidance system, from where Tony initially removed it. But all this splendor worked before the reactor was launched, and in it, harmless palladium quickly turned into the radioactive isotope 107Pd, and the fun began. Stark was irradiated, and, as expected with prolonged irradiation, the further, the stronger and faster the effect followed. Add to this the heavy metal poisoning he earned back in that cave in captivity, where he had to literally cast alloys on his knee, without any protection, which are not the most beneficial for health, as well as fragments lodged in the body, which very quickly poisoned the body with chemical reaction products from their oxidation, and the picture will turn out to be quite unpleasant. Tony was really dying, what kept him alive, protecting him from the consequences of being hit by a landmine explosion, irradiated his body, and the Living Light in passive mode could not only not cure radiation sickness, but also simply add survivability "didn't understand". Well, if Stark had the X-gene, he would have awakened long ago, but the guy was in for a bummer, and he, in all likelihood, turned out to be one of those few percent of people who lacked the X-gene or had it in a very rudimentary state.
Later, Tony's memory threw up a few more interesting moments and technologies, including the principles of creating and training a semblance of artificial intelligence on an earthly elementary base. The same Jarvis was not and could not be a full-fledged AI, at least because all earthly information technologies were based on binary logic, and to form a matrix of reason, at least a ternary one is needed, which provides, in addition to the simplest logical states of the type "yes" / "no", also an uncertainty option. However, Tony was able to develop a self-learning algorithm for an operating system simulating reason. But even this was pretty good ... and safer in many situations. Again, the implementation on a local elementary base and in local programming languages was a very valuable acquisition, although the principle itself was nothing special for Asgard. I also liked his repulsor-jet technology on clean energy, without the use of a working fluid in the jet stream. In part, it resembled the Asgardian plasma weapons, only the weapons for the defense of Asgard were originally created as weapons that should shoot, and not provide thrust for flight, Stark did the opposite: first he learned to fly, and then turned the engine into a gun. Honestly, a natural Brilliant Idiot!
By the way, I was finally able to make my opinion about him. So, Mr. Anthony Stark was a person very eccentric and selfish, but at the same time damn smart, dodgy and primarily appreciates his independence. But he liked one aggressive Niger, part-time, which is the director of Shch.I.T.A. Naturally, Fury, with all his claims and Wishlist, was sent to Tony to the on foot and practically lowered from the stairs, or rather, at such a probability he was transparently hinted six months ago and politely asked to leave private possessions, otherwise an iron person could take a black man who had taken to his house as a housekeeper, and even a press will not be shy to show photos with tickle Comments ... What a pity that the film shown only the beginning of this conversation, but now I have already baked, watching everything from the first person.
Alas, Niger was aggressive, but still smart enough to understand that a straight attack on Stark could end very deplorable for his entire office. When the stagnant of a potential enemy is comparable to the country's budget, and technical equipment completely surpasses all possible analogues of years for twenty -minimum, only completely bruised cretin will act. Although, in my opinion, in vain Tony hinted him, here in vain! In my opinion, without hints, Fury had every chance not to guess that, in the end, it would only benefit Stark. One way or another, the colonel decided to approach from afar - to wait until the dying Tony got "up to standard", and then offer "help" ... however, I knew this from my memory of the "time traveler", where there was a clear moment of SHIELD providing Stark Sr.'s records, combined with "house arrest", or rather, the forced detention of Tony himself, of course, completely illegally. And how Howard's "inheritance" ended up in Fury's hands, even then raised many questions for me. Here, however, everything was going in the same direction, in particular, the traitor-turncoat and simply "Red Bitch", popularly known as Natasha Romanoff, that is, "Black Widow", had already successfully infiltrated Stark Industries and even managed to start infiltrating Tony's inner circle, carefully and casually hooking him with correctly selected psychological techniques, but the dying and poisoned Stark does not need much now. And in the future ... taking into account the picture that opened up, I, from the position of the God of Deception, already saw how gradually, almost imperceptibly, Tony would be transformed from a smart and too independent player, primarily looking for his own interests, into an obedient dog of "Uncle Sam" in general and Fury in particular.
The first stage is almost over - the victim has fallen for a professional "honey trap", which will not fail to throw the right idea to the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. at the right moment. In the second stage, another black guy simply brazenly "gops" Tony on the suit, de facto committing a robbery, a theft on an especially large scale and at least causing "beatings" to the victim, or even attempting to kill him. According to local laws, he earned himself fifteen years of this. According to Stark's character, in this situation there can be only one solution: a demand to take off the suit and never appear in his sight again, and in case of refusal - a complete blocking of the system and activation of the timer "ten-nine-eight left until self-destruction ...", and such a function actually already existed and was installed on all suits. And no long-standing friendship would have helped Colonel James Rhodes, just as it did not help Obadiah Stane six months ago... Especially against the backdrop of what happened six months ago, because the situations are too similar for a person not to draw very unpleasant analogies. However, instead, the black gopnik safely flew away, safely handed over the armor to the military and safely continued to live. And here I have two options. Or rather, one option, but with two different outcomes. Stark's psyche was skillfully shaken in addition to the pre-mortal stress, which is very easy from the position of a personal secretary, which Tony was already thinking about making a red-haired person with a rounded bottom, fortunately, the place previously occupied by Pepper Potts literally just became vacant due to the appointment of this same Pepper as CEO of Stark Industries. Well, then either S.H.I.E.L.D. organized the theft of the armor at a memorable birthday party by hacking into the estate's security system and playing "Rhodey" in the dark, or by using subtle psychological manipulation, made it so that Tony himself decided to take care of the successor of Iron Man and so extravagantly hand over the armor to him, having previously configured all the security systems so that they would let Rhodes through, and even adding him to the list of authorized users in the armor's computer system. The competent authorities could have pulled off both, especially since Black Widow is a pro at manipulation, and Tony seriously believed that this would be the last birthday in his life. Well, the third stage is merciful help at the time of greatest need. I mean, wait until the overslept Stark starts to get a hangover and suffer over the years he's wasted, the birthday he's had, the relationships he's had, and other philosophical things, quickly catch him on the verge of coming to his senses and show him a way to save himself, making it seem like he's now completely obligated and obligated everywhere. I remember they also injected him with some lithium dioxide, which Tony himself knew nothing about, although he'd seemingly dug up everything he could to solve his problem with radiation, heavy metal poisoning, and body intoxication. In other words, they could have injected him with anything, from a combat stimulant that could temporarily give the illusion of an improvement in his condition to a psychotropic cocktail.And that's it - the guy is already hooked, especially when he became part of the Avengers, that is, he got into constant, direct contact with SHIELD agents, which he actually denied for a long time, but even there Fury "stimulated" the guys with a tearful story of Agent Coulson's death and bloody vintage cards.
In short, they surrounded the guy like a bear in a den, with no chance to move. But... now the man who loves to troll those around him, as well as Cunning Plans and Style, has a God who is responsible for all this. So why shouldn't God help his faithful follower? Of course, for a couple of services that are not at all burdensome for the latter. And we'll start with Natasha. I can't stand corrupt creatures who also mask their vile nature with lying slogans about "human rights", "democratic values" and "criminal regime", or whatever such defectors usually bleat? It doesn't matter. I wanted to visit her right now, break her arms and legs, and then tie her to the Iron Felix monument that was erected in Moscow opposite the patrimony of all the Chekists, but I had to give up on that desire - I didn't know how to teleport yet, and organizing a flight, secret penetration, and an act of vandalism was a bit much. Firstly, the monument to Comrade Dzerzhinsky didn't deserve to have pieces of shit tied to it, secondly, Black Widow is not the kind of figure for whom such flashy performances would be staged, and thirdly, it would take a long time, and my hands were already itching! So I'll just quietly strangle Natasha, and then I'll talk to Stark and make him a number of offers that he simply won't be able to refuse. Well, that sounds like a plan. All that's left is to implement it!
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