New York.
- ... there have been no comments from the Monaco authorities yet, but according to eyewitnesses, Iron Man... - the TV was quietly mumbling something, but I wasn't interested in that at the moment.
- Yuriko, my dear, have you recovered from the shock yet? - getting up from the chair and finding Stryker's former assistant in the rented room, I turn to the back of her head.
"I am completely ready to begin performing my duties," the woman, who, having gotten rid of her glasses and let her hair down, had tripled her attractiveness, immediately turned to me, slightly startled by surprise, because before that I had simply sat motionless and said nothing.
- Okay, I need you to fly to New Mexico and look for a camper van there, and meet me tomorrow morning on the road to Lotsberg or Puerto Palomas, I'm not sure yet. Can you handle it?
"It will be done," the girl nodded and went to get ready, involuntarily plunging me into annoyed thoughts about how I should have taken her with me right away. On the other hand, when I was leaving for Mexico, I wasn't yet sure that I would be returning in exactly this company, and anyway, the plan with the mobile home only just came up…
Okay, let's move on. Here, if anything, a more relevant topic for reflection is emerging. So, I have a very responsible lady with a roof that is clearly not quite firmly in place, who was ordered to fly halfway across the country, what could go wrong? Hmm-m-m...
"Please, use public airlines, no need to hijack Stryker's private jet or anything," I shouted into the room, turning off the TV the girl had forgotten with a light magical impulse, where they were still chewing over, apparently, Stark's meeting with Ivan Vanko, although it clearly went much less spectacularly than in canon. I should probably drop in on Tony in a few days. Find out everything first-hand, so to speak.
"I… didn't even think of doing that," the girl answered, bringing me a laptop where the ticket booking page was already open.
- Oh, good, - perhaps I underestimated her endurance. Oh well, better safe than sorry.
- There are two flights. The destinations are Las Cruces International Airport and Deming Municipal Airport. Las Cruces is closer, but the flight to Deming leaves almost two hours earlier.
- Hmm-m-m, - I had greatly underestimated this girl. This time the dispelling of a misconception was surprisingly pleasant, - let's go to Las Cruces. We don't need to rush with our tongues hanging out and the pedal to the metal.
- Okay, then I'll book a ticket. The flight will take three and a half hours, I'll pre-order the delivery of the necessary car to the airport and I'll be at the place you specified in about ten to twelve hours, depending on the road, just in time for the morning.
- Just great. I'll take over from you and you can sleep. Thank you.
- No need to thank me, sir. With your permission, I'll go and pack my things.
- Yes, of course, - I agreed. - And you will need money to buy the necessary car, - I remembered another point, - and it is better to have cash. Write down the address where you can get it before the flight...
Loki, Laura and Sarah, almost Connor.
"No, no, we're not going there," I stop my companions, who, upon leaving the bunker, were heading towards the duty helicopter that was part of the base's staff.
"Don't we need a helicopter?" Sarah worried, squinting hard from the hot Mexican sun, which after the artificial lighting of the bunker slightly hurt even my eyes. "There are no roads nearby, and it's several days' walk to the nearest settlement," she added, as if she was truly afraid that I would drag them through the desert, despite all the earlier assurances… Or maybe because of them, I did say that they needed to walk…
- You don't want your employers' specialists to discover that one of the helicopters is missing when they investigate what happened, do you? Honestly, that wouldn't fit in the best way with the legend of your death, - I wink at the woman. - Besides, we have our own transport, - and, turning around, I snap my fingers, thereby dispelling the illusion of a vertical takeoff aerial horse, which I borrowed back in New York.
It was located specifically in the far corner of the airfield, away from the canopy where the local cars were parked, but I still didn't want to be too clever with the distance; after all, even a live broadcast from the bunker's surveillance cameras to the World Wide Web wouldn't have interfered with my plans. In short, after a couple of dozen steps we were already climbing into the cabin.
"Where to next?" the scientist asked as the front door slammed shut.
- To the north, of course. All roads lead north, - I answered carelessly, settling myself more comfortably in the pilot's seat.
- Um... - it was obvious that Miss Kinney still couldn't get into the Spirit of the Hunt and the situation, but Laura was great, she obviously didn't care. Go through a base full of corpses? Okay. Climb into a helicopter that appeared out of thin air? Okay. Blow up a bunker to hell? Also ok. Gold, not a child, and if only she could be taught to smile - it would be absolutely delightful!
"Okay," I flexed my fingers, looking at the instruments with anticipation, "you need to pull this thing, switch this little button and press this button."
"Do you know how to fly helicopters, Mr. Loki?" Sarah asked cautiously.
- I am an ancient Scandinavian God! - I was indignant. - Of course, I can fly this helicopter of yours - I saw something similar in a movie! What was it called?.. Oh yeah, "Mad Max"! True, we will be in the sky, but that's even better! - in response, the woman began to frantically fasten Laura, and then herself. - Yes, I'm kidding, I'm kidding, - I reassure the passenger. - All your earthly technology is terribly primitive. No Machine Spirits, no Cyberdemons, not even the simplest neurointerface with a genetic marker - just take whoever you want and do whatever comes into your head!
I was exaggerating a bit, of course, but I'm not going to explain that I downloaded piloting knowledge from Stryker's memory. That doesn't sound nearly as impressive as Machine Spirits, although I can't imagine what kind of fool would use them on a vehicle smaller than a strike cruiser.
Confirming my words, the helicopter hummed with its engine, and soon took off. I headed northeast, mentally preparing myself to be bored. We had about five hours to fly, and then another hour to walk to the city through the deserted wasteland from the place where I planned to land and hide the helicopter, and for most of this time I would have no time for entertainment, not even taking into account the numerous phantoms.
When we had already flown about eight kilometers, a dull bang was heard from behind, a cloud of dust rose above the base, after which the top of the bunker neatly folded inward - the structure could not withstand the powerful explosion from within and collapsed like a house of cards.
"Well, that's it," I say with relief for Sarah. Whatever you say, holding so many pseudo-material illusions, and also casting spells through them, even if it's only one spell, is very stressful.
"You managed to transform such a volume of air so quickly?" the scientist stared at me in amazement.
- Oh! That wasn't fast, Surtur take him! - I object with all my inner feeling. - I almost got a migraine from distributing my attention in fifty directions! By the way, there's a thermos of cocoa and a refrigerator with cakes in the corner, - I nod the back of my head towards the salon. - Knowing the power of small children, I took a little extra, but I'm counting on at least one eclair and one cup! - I emphasize the especially important part of the sentence with my voice. By the way, it would be a good idea to warn Charles that he's expecting a new addition to his ranks. And professors, yes... Although he'll talk about this with the female geneticist himself...
***
Everything went strictly according to plan, as it should be with the God of Intrigue, Cunning and Other Interesting Things. I didn't bother Charles, though. He's an old man, why would he need unnecessary worries? And this would be a pleasant surprise. And no, this, of course, has nothing to do with the fact that he won't be able to place the "woman with a child" dragged along by his slightly crazy history teacher anywhere right away, but he won't throw her out the door either, and so the only way out would be to keep Sarah at school. Well, and then things will just get used to it and fall in love... ahem, in a sense.
Be that as it may, we landed safely among the hills... or should we say sand dunes? There seemed to be some bushes growing with tufts of grass, but the wind was also blowing sand... In short, it doesn't matter. Anyway, the helicopter touched down about a mile and a half from some small American town, and I gave the order to abandon the vehicle.
"Where are we?" Dr. Kinney asked, looking around the cabin glass.
"Somewhere in the USA," I answered honestly.
- I understand that, but where exactly?
"I have no idea," I laconically turn off all systems without looking at the scientist, "but it doesn't matter, unload."
- It's a joke?
- No. And it's not mockery, - I suppress an involuntary smile that is trying to crawl out on my face at the sight of the woman. - I just need to get rid of the helicopter - there is very little fuel left, and I don't want to bother with transforming it from the surrounding sand.
"But why couldn't we fly to the city, we saw it from above?" Sarah continued her questioning.
- Because it will be easier for us if no one finds him.
- But how can they not find him just a kilometer from the city?
"Oh, these scientists," I turn to Laura with a grin, "instead of waiting and seeing everything, just let them bombard me with questions."
The girl remained silent in response, continuing to act like a thinking brick, only shifting her gaze from me to her mother and back. Such a good, wary and at the same time very curious look, as if to say, what will these adults do next and how should I react to it?
"She's a wonder, isn't she?" I turned my attention to the elder Kinney and, without giving her time to answer, slipped outside.
In the next few minutes, the hijacked helicopter was finally abandoned by the fleeing family, and I was able to get down to business. I had chosen this place not only because of the relatively close proximity of the city and the secluded hills, but above all because of the entrance to the shadow paths that I felt here. In fact, I did not really believe that even if the authorities found the helicopter stolen in New York near the Mexican border, they would connect this with the destruction of the secret bunker on the other side of this border and, even more so, conclude from this that Dr. Kinney survived, but I always believed that if you do something, you have to do it perfectly. And now this conviction forced me to slightly strain my muscles, pushing the civilian helicopter into the open passage to the shadow paths, where in a couple of days nothing would remain of it. I can't say that the weight of the machine was heavy for this body, but how I was annoyed by the sand sagging under my feet ... Oh, it is beyond words! I was also wearing my weekend boots, into which this loose muck stubbornly got stuck... And I wish I could transform them back into boots, but it became so inconvenient to do it in front of the audience. In short, deserts are evil! And not at all because I'm an ice giant!
Next on the list was a stop at some hotel, although, judging by the picturesque area around, more likely a roadside motel, if you're lucky, even a relatively decent one without any additional creatures like rats, cockroaches and bedbugs. It took us more than an hour and a half to get to the nearest town - either I got the distance slightly wrong, or it was all about my companions. No, Laura didn't cause any complaints - with her physiology, the very concept of "physical fatigue" was hardly familiar to the girl, and the short length of her steps was easily replaced by their number. Sarah was another matter. The woman was not a fan or an adherent of sports to begin with, and sedentary work in a confined space did not improve the situation. In short, the lady got exhausted very quickly and slowed us down a lot, but she was not ready to let herself be dragged by an "unknown shady guy", while Laura could only move her by dragging. But we got there, and thank goodness for that. Next, I brought our appearance to a more or less decent level for idle tourists and began to look for a place to spend the night.
Finding a motel took much less time than walking through the desert, and in twenty minutes we were checking into two rooms on the second floor of a long, two-story cottage. It was owned by a married couple of elderly people, and the maid was a girl of about nineteen or twenty, alas, like almost everything in this universe, not particularly pretty, if not downright ugly. The old people were a little surprised that we showed up on our own, after all, as a rule, their clients were truck drivers or just citizens traveling by car, in rare cases - passengers of regular buses. All this and much more was told to me by a talkative old lady while I was filling out the guest book. My answer that our car simply stalled about an hour's walk from here caused a mournful lamentation and an offer to go with Frank, who is her husband, and drive it here. Oh, well, no one asked us for documents, of course.
Having fought off the talkative old lady-dandelion with the words that I had already called the service, was very tired and there was nothing to take there anyway, since we had already taken everything valuable, I was finally released "to my family". Nevertheless, after all the Strikers, Rice, Natasha and Kimura, I was pleasantly surprised by the simple, responsive old country lady, even my misanthropy, which had become more acute recently, subsided a little. And the dinner provided by the "hotel" in the form of some kind of vegetable stew completely reconciled me with reality. Miss Kinney looked at me with considerable suspicion, but she didn't seem to be planning any stupid things yet, although she clearly thought about something like that from time to time. A small innocent girl, keeping a perfect poker face on her face, methodically and quickly "threw into the firebox" the provided provisions, without asking any questions or showing any preferences regarding the food, although it looked from the outside as if she had not been fed for a week. I even felt irrationally ashamed, although this little thing gobbled up a whole cooler bag of cakes and drank a large thermos of cocoa. Even if she wasn't alone - Sarah also helped her a little, but still, for some reason my conscience is gnawing at me for that eclair I won in my favor. Children are scary! That's what I'll tell you.
Nevertheless, having finished dinner, we went to our rooms - Sarah and Laura in one, and I took the second, not that I really needed it, but what can you do. But, lounging comfortably in bed, I was able to completely switch to my illusion next to Yuriko. It was worth clarifying our location, so that the girl would not pass by, and just to keep her company...
***
Yuriko drove up right after breakfast. A tricked-out trailer, or rather a self-propelled monster based on a full-fledged bus, drove into the parking lot in front of the motel, as if a king had decided to look into the yard of a simple farmer. Looking at this steel monster with a fresh mind, I thought that I had gone too far after all. On the other hand, now you can take your time and move around in comfort. And several sleeping places, a full kitchen, a toilet and a shower, along with a separate gasoline generator in addition to the main diesel engine, provided this very comfort quite well. In the long run, however, such an act could cause a small problem, since any purchases for cash exceeding a hundred dollars in the USA cause some nervousness among sellers and managers of salons, and may even arouse the interest of guys on the other side of the law, since large sums in cash, in most cases, are obtained from drug sales, racketeering and other bad things. But this is in perspective and, in fact, not very likely, because my newly-minted assistant set off in an "unknown direction" much faster than anyone could react. In particular, another phantom of mine waited for another three hours at that airport for the next flight to Malibu after the Asian woman's departure.
"Ladies, it's our turn, we're packing up," I announced the new instructions to Sarah and Laura, putting aside the cutlery; fortunately, it wasn't at all difficult to time the speed of eating breakfast to the moment the car arrived.
- This? - the scientist looked from me to the window, through which a mobile home was visible, and back again, in bewilderment. - Aren't we hiding?
- No, why would the dead hide? So we'll continue on our way with the proper level of comfort. Oh, I almost forgot, we'll need to get new documents for you, otherwise you won't be able to board a plane or a train. But that's enough talk, time to hit the road! - and we set off, saying a warm goodbye to the elderly couple who owned the motel. In ten minutes, they won't remember our faces.
"Hello, Yuriko," I entered the salon, dispelling my phantom.
"Hello, sir," the mutant nodded, moving her gaze from the place where "I" had just been sitting to, well, me.
– Still can't get used to the fact that I can be omnipresent?
"That's… quite unusual," she agreed. But then, obeying my wave, Sarah entered the salon, and…
- A-ah?! - a convulsive sigh and a backwards jump forward came out great. Nine out of ten.
- Do you know each other? - I raise an eyebrow. - Oh yeah, Stryker showed up in that bunker a couple of times... - I think, recalling a couple of moments from someone else's memory. - Hey, relax, battle hamster, no one is going to hurt your mother, - I wink at the tensed girl, who managed to tensely sit up and raise her hands higher to her chest. - And, Doctor Kinney, - I look ironically into the woman's eyes, - no need to be so nervous. There are only two people on the entire continent who can harm you while I'm around, and I know both of them. True, I recently hit one of them painfully on the head, and he could hold a grudge, - I kind of "reminded" myself of the "unpleasant" moment. What the hell is this? I can't help myself! I always want to show off and play on the nerves of others! Even the real Loki didn't behave like that! - But he's still in San Francisco now, and he doesn't attack cute little girls, especially mutants, - I quickly reassure the scientist. - In fact, he'll tear apart anyone who tries to attack one in front of him. Well, you know: a difficult childhood in Nazi camps, moral trauma, all that - give him free rein, and he'll do even worse to anyone who threatens his kind. Although he's actually a good person, he's just a little touched by senile dementia.
"Oh… what are you talking about?" the woman shook her head.
- About acquaintances. I hope you've gotten a little distracted and don't want to run away from us anymore because you saw a familiar face?
"I…" Sarah shook her head again, closing her eyes slightly to help her collect her thoughts. "This woman was with one of the project's curators!"
"Right," I nod, noticing out of the corner of my eye how the girl, who is Asian, involuntarily gripped the steering wheel – the memory of the days of being a prisoner of her own body did not bring her any pleasure, "just like you and Rice. Yuriko," I turn to the beauty, "do you mind if I tell them your story?"
"No, sir," the regenerator answered after thinking for a moment, "I understand the effect my presence can have on Doctor Kinney, so it will be easier for everyone if she knows. But… if possible, without details."
"Okay," I turned back to Sarah, who had already come to her senses a little and was no longer going to either accept the "last fight" or frantically run away somewhere, clearly realizing the futility of both options. "So, where to begin? Hmm… In a way, I did the same trick with Yuriko as I did with you. The only difference is that you couldn't escape on your own due to your physical weakness, and she was kept under control by medication.
- Medicinal?
– Rice's "trigger" is far from the most effective chemistry that such bastards have. Fortunately for normal people, these bastards remain bastards - ambitious, selfish and considering themselves the smartest, and therefore if they cooperate with "colleagues", then with great reluctance and keeping all the most delicious trump cards for themselves.
"I see," the woman pursed her lips, no longer paying much attention to my awareness.
- Yes, but I think we can discuss these issues sitting in the comfortable interior of the air-conditioned van, and not under the scorching sun. By the way, child, - I squat down in front of Laura with a deliberately conspiratorial look, - I don't know whether you are directly related or not, but your abilities are very similar, only your claws are different, so be a good girl and don't offend Aunt Yuriko, she may look strict, but she is kind. I know for sure, - I wink at the girl, noting with satisfaction that after my words she glanced with interest towards the driver's seat.
"I understand," X-23 answered quietly, almost in a whisper, returning her eyes to my face. And that's it. Again she looks like she's got water in her mouth.
- Excellent, - I rise to a vertical position. - Yuriko, thank you, I will drive from here myself, and you can go and rest, - the girl nodded and, standing up, moved into the salon... right next to Sarah and Laura.
Hmm, perhaps it's worth creating a phantom there and helping to start a conversation and maintain the general climate in the team. After all, Dr. Kinney is far from a professional soldier, her endurance is not made of steel, and much more has fallen on her in a day than her fragile female shoulders can withstand. So she's still holding up well.
Some time later. One playboy, a billionaire, a philanthropist and just a sad troll.
- Tony, you need to come out and take control of the situation immediately! - the old friend burst into the inventor's holy of holies, as if death with a scythe was chasing him.
"Ah-ah-ah," Stark waved him away with the bottle clutched in his hand, "I have no time for more of these idiotic claims from these idiots," perhaps this was too rude, but the billionaire's condition and mood did not encourage courtesy or even banal politeness.
And the worst thing about all this was that for some reason he couldn't even get completely drunk anymore! His body reached "average" conditions, and then - no way! He sobered up faster than alcohol affected his body. It seemed that the status of a priest of Loki was not just a funny title, and this guy himself said something about "no to drugs". Alcohol, of course, is not heroin, but, apparently, the level when "quantity" turns into "quality" was now magically cut for him. In any other situation - cool and almost a dream, but now it was especially depressing.
– I've been calling the National Guard all day, trying to talk them out of rolling tanks up the access road, smashing everything, and taking the Suits. And they will take them, Tony! They're sick of these games! You said no one would master this technology for another twenty years? And what happened? Someone did it yesterday! And these aren't abstract theories!
- Oh! So now Uncle Sam wants to break into my house and rob me? - the engineer looked gloomily at his friend, then pressed a button on his hand-held communicator. The protective glass on the display cases where the suits were kept dropped. And the empty armor took a step forward. - Well then... let him try... Just don't be offended later that I'll use the third and fourth amendments, as well as the right to self-defense.
- Tony, are you serious? - Colonel James Rhodes stared at him, as if he couldn't believe his ears. In response, the billionaire looked gloomily at his interlocutor, emphasizing his own amazement at the fact that someone could allow in their thoughts a different outcome with his participation. - Are you serious, - Rhodey stated in a dull voice.
- One of your colleagues already tried to lay hands on my projects "in the interests of the United States." And later it turned out that he was a common thief who appropriated part of my father's inheritance, - Tony got up from the bar and went for a new bottle, because the first one had already shown the bottom. - Rhodey, we've known each other for a long time. I won't give up the armor. Even if I have to fly to the president in it and hang him upside down on the White House flagpole.
- Just understand! - the black officer tried to persuade him. - A lone individual cannot fight a state! They will get these technologies anyway, if not from you, then from this Vanko!
Stark grimaced, casting a displeased glance at his friend, uncorked a new bottle and took a greedy sip straight from the neck.
The whole situation with Ivan was killing him. Their fathers had obviously worked together, and both had full control of the technology, which they had passed on to their children. The story there was indeed murky and dirty, but you couldn't ask Howard, and the "reasons for deportation" of Anton Vanko seemed completely fictitious.
Espionage? What was he spying on? Looking for politicians' dirty laundry? How, if he hardly left the factory lab?
Technology? From a man who developed a technical solution so perfect that even after forty years it still far surpasses all its closest competitors? Not funny.
"He wanted to sell this technology, use it as a weapon?" So what? Weapons manufacturing is a legal and highly profitable business, Stark Industries was built by Howard on this business, so blaming his partner for this is just stupid.
So it turned out, from the point of view of common sense, that his father really did steal the Russian's work, and got rid of him, except that he didn't have the guts to simply kill him.
Tony had a rather complicated relationship with his parent. He loved him... especially when he realized it when he lost him. But he was not a naive fool who knew nothing about running a big business, and he fully admitted that Howard could have taken such a step. In the history of American business, such things were encountered all the time. It was disgusting, low, smelled foul, but not everyone was Tony Stark to pull companies along on their own inventions, as a result, such parasitism was encountered everywhere, and to swear that his father, who lived in a much harsher era and was up to his ears in Uncle Sam's affairs, never did anything like that... He wanted to, but it was difficult.
And they were all very lucky - if Anton had not become "untouchable" among the Soviet elite after the deportation (which once again emphasized that he was not a spy), now Russia (and even the surviving USSR) would have hundreds and thousands of "Iron Men" in service. And so everything came back to Vanko Jr.
Unfortunately, their negotiations ended before they even began. It's hard to have a conversation when someone is trying to chop you up with a power whip. And even though Tony was prepared for something like this, having taken care of the competent detention and subsequent escort of Ivan, now he found himself in a very... unpleasant situation.
Yes, they managed to do everything quietly enough, catching Vanko on the approach and making sure there were no TV cameras, but not having their own special units with special flights to quickly transport the prisoner abroad, they had to ask a friend for help, and now this resulted in the fact that his superiors also knew about the existence of a copy of the reactor and a person capable of repeating this copy. And after this, the Soviet scientist would very quickly become worth his weight in gold. And they would try to get his knowledge out of him. One way or another. That same Fury would be the first to run...
And Tony was still ready to accept this, he had even prepared a couple of steps, how to give everyone a painful and loud slap on the hands, but... then the worst thing came to light. Something he had not taken into account.
The attempt to negotiate with Ivan in a good way failed. And not through the fault of Tony himself, who for once really tried to behave decently and with respect to his interlocutor. He even offered Vanko a percentage of the company's shares, a public admission of the injustice of his father's accusation and... In short, he tried to restore justice! Honestly! No nonsense!
And he left as if he had been spat upon...
And it didn't matter how they would try to buy Ivan now - it was crystal clear that he would sell himself not even for money, but only to spite Stark. This was his obsession. Impenetrable... Which was especially irritating! There were thousands of people in the world whom Tony had hurt, insulted and humiliated in his life, but it had to happen that the very person to whom he had never spat in a glass would turn out to be the only one who maniacally and selflessly wanted to kill him just for his last name!
Tony could never have predicted such a turn of events! Anything but such nonsense! Even Hammer didn't treat him like that, although it would seem that there was no one in the whole world who wanted Tony dead more than Hammer. But Stark could come to an agreement with Hammer, but not with Vanko. And now... all that was left was to wait for Iron Man's technology to become publicly available, and...
- And how long before this technology falls into the wrong hands, Rhodey? Six months? A year? How long before a dozen fighters in Suits are razing entire cities to the ground "for the glory of the Taliban" or "Al Qaeda"? - Stark saw a solution to this problem, but... he didn't like it. In the end, his guts were as weak as his father's. He couldn't kill Ivan. Tony took another swig from the bottle.
- ... - Rhodey pursed his lips. Of course, he could say something, assure that something like this would not happen, but... practice showed that the terrorists time and again had weapons that sometimes even the regular army did not have. And they could only get them by buying them from someone sitting very high up.
"Based on the dialogue..." a voice that Tony already knew came from the door, "you were unable to come to an agreement with Vanya."
"With whom?" Stark asked, finding Loki with his gaze (at the same time as Rhodey, who had turned frantically towards the sound).
"A diminutive form of the name 'Ivan' in Russian," the brunette in the short coat explained, coming closer. "So, what's the main problem?"
"He wants me dead," Tony answered exhaustively, taking another swig from the bottle.
- Completely sealed? - the new guest raised his right eyebrow.
- Yes.
"The last resort?" Both of the brunette's eyebrows were now raised.
"I don't want to..." Stark winced.
- Tear out the tongue? - the ancient Scandinavian god moved his index finger in the air in a businesslike manner. Tony's answer was visible on his face before his slightly alcohol-fogged brain had time to fully comprehend the proposal. - Oh yeah, not that era, - Loki remembered, understanding everything from his facial expressions alone. - Then we'll put off the amputation of limbs, crushing bones and gouging out eyes too... How you humans love to complicate yourselves and those around you! - the guest shook his head with annoyance and an obvious reproach addressed to him and Rhodey.
- Hey! I don't want to hear such reproaches from someone who suggests tearing out the tongue and gouging out the eyes of a guy who just... - Stark's indignant speech was cut off, having run into a lack of the right words.
"Tried to kill you?" the grinning bastard prompted tactfully.
- Yes, but... - the damned alcohol began to interfere with thinking just when it was needed!
"Hey, Tony, maybe you could explain to me who this is and what he's doing in your workshop?" Rhodey reminded them, looking from one interlocutor to the other in surprise.
- Uh... - the billionaire's head started to hurt just from the thought of how he would explain something that he himself still didn't really understand. - Maybe you?.. - he looked at Loki with hope.
"Okay," he shrugged easily. "How should I answer you: so that you believe it, or the truth?" He turned his whole body towards Rowdy.
"I'd like the truth," the Air Force colonel answered cautiously, casting a wary glance at Stark.
- I am God. Tony and I drink sometimes...
- Ahem! - the said Tony was inwardly glad that at that moment he had not taken another sip, but he still hurried to disguise the smile creeping onto his lips with a cough.
- Do you want me to believe such nonsense? - Seeing his friend's reaction, Rowdy began to look at everything that was happening even more suspiciously.
"Then I'm his squirrel. Or green fairy, whichever you prefer," Loki grinned insolently, saluting the man with a glass of absinthe that appeared in a shimmer of yellow-green light.
"I'll believe this more..." the colonel admitted, blinking a couple of times.
- Come on, relax. Come on, sit down here, - Loki pointed to the nearest sofa. - There are things that are better taken while sitting. I'll show you everything now.
- Really? - James Rhodes was in no hurry to reduce the intensity of the suspicious glances from his current interlocutor to Tony and back.
- Yes, it's a long story. However, if you're not interested... - the brunette with green eyes pretended to be ready to stop giving any explanations.
"Okay, I'm sitting down," Rhodey quickly complied. "What next?"
"As I said, I am God," the guest saluted with his glass once more. "Thank you for your participation. Say hello to Morpheus if you see him," after which he made some kind of sly gesture, and Tony's friend, rolling his eyes, immediately fell unconscious on the sofa.
"What was that?" the owner of the mansion demanded, pointing the hand holding the bottle at Rowdy's body.
"A simple dream-sending," Loki shrugged, dispersing the glass in his hand as easily as he had created it a short time ago. "He may be a good man, but it would be a bit of a strain to talk in front of him."
- Yeah, - sadly, Tony was forced to agree. He could explain some of his acquaintances to Rhodey until the morning and without any guarantee that he would believe him. - What are we going to talk about? Would you like a drink, by the way?
"No, thanks, I'm driving," the God of Deception smiled at something, but Stark preferred not to elaborate.
He had had too many difficult conversations lately, and the billionaire was not in the mood to burden his brain with the jokes of his friend-savior-God.
- Actually, I wanted to give you an interesting topic for research, but now I'm not sure you'll care about it, - despite refusing to drink, Loki began to study the selection of alcoholic drinks on the shelf behind him with interest. - And about Vanko... There's no chance at all? - green eyes slid onto Stark's face.
"I got the feeling that he was ready to bomb the whole world to pieces just to get to me," Tony turned away, taking another swig from the bottle. "And then there were these… You should at least create your own army for such cases," he finished with annoyance.
"Not the worst idea," Loki commented, immediately receiving a reproachful look from Stark.
Who would have known how much it infuriated him! So many years of fighting off the obsessive attempts of almost all his friends to surround him with a crowd of bodyguards, so that life would once again put a boot in his face. And yet, with the advent of the suit, he was already sure that this would definitely not be needed anymore!
- What? - the brunette feigned innocence. - You can't even imagine how many idiots you have in your government. And every second one, with the persistence of a ram, is looking for a way to bring the world to the brink of destruction, generously spending taxpayers' money on these goals. In such a situation, there will be many more situations ahead where you will really need a personally loyal army, just to prevent another idiot from grinding the world into dust.
"Really?" Stark squinted skeptically.
- I literally just closed down a shop where they were developing a biological weapon that was supposed to destroy 95% of the planet's population based on race. True, they believed that their means would destroy "only" two or three percent of the population, but that doesn't justify them, - Loki shrugged. - Before that, I closed down a shop where they were trying to get the same result, but by technical means with the addition of the powers of certain mutants, and not long before that, I sorted out the Third World War that was about to start. And that's just in the last six months. So yes, there are a lot of morons in this world, - the brunette nodded his head, - and they are all very active. And all because one stupid black guy killed all the vampires... They, of course, were also some real freaks, but at least they understood what they were doing!
- Vampires exist too? - the most fantastic engineer of them asked, not knowing how to react to the facts that had been revealed. Tony understood perfectly well that he had filled up well and was not thinking as fast as he would have liked, but it was still harder to believe in the existence of vampires than in... the first points.
- Not anymore, but about twenty years ago they ruled almost the entire planet. Well, you know, eternal life, wealth and connections accumulated over centuries, as well as the promise of immortality - very good means for ruling the world from the shadows. Not to say that they totally ruled everything, interfered in everything and were very friendly with their families, but they had enough brains to keep the world from sliding into total nuclear slaughter, as well as to pull back the over-the-top puppets from the military departments and governments. And when they were all mowed down by a specially created virus, those who used to simply follow orders from above began to rule the countries themselves, and that's when all the fucked up shit of the last decades began.
"Holy shit…" Stark succinctly gave his assessment of the information dumped on him and washed this thesis down from the bottle.
- Okay, let's not talk about sad things. If you don't like the simple solution to the Vanko problem...
"I understand that you come from an era where it was normal to just take an axe and stick it into the head of an opponent you didn't like," Tony interrupted, tearing himself away from the bottle, "but this is the twenty-first century, and such methods are somehow... not to my liking. At least, for me," he realized that he was being a bit disingenuous, but in Ivan's case he felt some irrational guilt, and for some reason it was disgusting to treat this guy like that.
"Well..." God narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin, "in principle, I can send Vanya away from Earth or... just block his memory of the reactor and his hatred of you.
"Is that possible?" Stark immediately perked up, immediately coming up with a dozen options for how to arrange Ivan away from any special services, if the problem of him getting into trouble himself disappeared.
- More than that, but you'd better not meet after that, and in general it makes sense to place him in an environment as far away as possible from what he's used to in everyday life. You can confuse a person's head so much that he'll forget his own name and believe in a completely different biography, but, contrary to popular belief, such an impact is not like formatting a hard drive with a new operating system. You can't just take and rewrite a personality - even the best mental impact will weaken over time and can always fly off at once from some strong push.
"And what would it take for…" Tony waved his hand in the air, choosing his words and making a final decision on the options for the plan being implemented, "for him to become, for example, the owner of a mansion in Hawaii with a good bank account and a couple of shares of Stark Industries?"
- Two hours of work and transportation to this mansion without the participation of any agents or emissaries of the US Air Force.
- Excellent! - Tony felt a powerful surge of animation and vigor. - And what was that you said about an interesting topic for research?
- I'm currently working on a project of interuniversal transitions. The results aren't very good yet, but I know for sure that a portal between parallel universes can be built using purely technical means. I thought maybe you'd be interested in trying to poke around in this topic in your spare time?
- Is it definitely possible?
- One hundred percent. Your reactor, for example, has a one-way portal to a dimension adjacent to our world, thanks to the special properties of the physics of which you have protection from kinetic damage.
"Tell me…" Stark narrowed his eyes, "what is your relationship with snakes and apples?"
- Well... - a shadow of surprise appeared on Loki's face. - At one time I often turned into a snake, and apples... that's already the last century! Now the Cookies rule. Yes, the Dark Side is definitely for the Cookies, - he nodded to himself with a satisfied smile.
- Okay... - Tony's suspicions only grew stronger. - Okay, then what exactly are you suggesting about interdimensional travel? Oh, and one more question. What should we tell Rhodey when he wakes up?
"Whatever you want," the guest shrugged, "even the version where your squirrel hit him on the head with an oar, which is why he passed out."
***
"A heart-to-heart talk" in the female team did not work out - Yuriko had been driving for more than twelve hours without a break, and although this was not a problem for the regenerator's organism, the woman still preferred to use the excuse and go to sleep. Looking at her, Sarah and Laura did the same. One night of rest after such intense "adventures" was clearly not enough to calm the nerves, at least in Sarah's case. Well, or she also decided to escape from communicating with my phantom in this way. The girl continued to be an ideal child and amazed with her imperturbability, and also won over with attentive, like a drill, glances, from time to time cast at Yuriko and my modest person. No, there was no aggression there, but the stare and something like that... animal, because of which Laura was associated with a kind of animal, whose fur on the withers stood on end from tension... I really could hardly restrain myself from adding wolf ears on top of her head. I even had to dispel the observational illusion, so as not to give in to temptation.
I suppose I admitted defeat. Or the child decided that I admitted defeat... In fact, I'm not sure that Laura even perceived this as some kind of competition, but the persistent feeling that she went to bed as a winner did not leave me for the next three hours. The ideal child... Well, from the point of view of the God of Intrigue.
Be that as it may, I wasn't planning on rushing anywhere and decided to make my first stop about four hours later, turning onto a more country road than before and seeing the first empty campsite I came across. The female group was still dozing, so I found myself alone with my own mind... Who said that means completely alone?! By the way, at that moment I was also reading "The Theory of Explosive Evolution" by C. Xavier in his personal library! That is, I had a book with me, and those who have books are not alone! Well, that's what the past Loki tried to believe... No matter! I was also having half-drunk conversations with Stark, okay?! I was thinking for two, so to speak, under the snoring of the third one who had already passed out!..
Why does it seem to me that each subsequent self-justification I make sounds more pathetic than the previous one?
Anyway, after parking, I turned off the engine and went to inspect the refrigerator. I can't say that I really believed in its full capacity in a car I had just bought, but... having lived in America for some time, I learned that there are many of their own quirks and traditions, including in business. In particular, there seemed to be a tradition here of giving buyers of this kind of mobile home small gifts in the form of food products. Well, like, buy a car and get a free barbecue as a gift. Alas, either my information was inaccurate, or Yuriko was a tightwad, since the only thing found in the refrigerator was a factory-made polyethylene bundle of six bottles of mineral water. In short, we had no food. Too bad...
What's good about American campsites? They exist. I mean, of course, they have all sorts of utilities that free you from having to fiddle with a generator to set up a site, and you don't have to waste water from the tanks, but I didn't need all that. There was no meat anyway. Anyway, it was simple - unfold a chaise lounge, take off the extra clothes, create a thick illusion of dark glasses and blissfully sprawl out in the sun, turning the water in one of the bottles into cocoa along the way. The formula for the spell hadn't been worked out very well yet, and my contraption couldn't stand next to a natural brewed drink of the highest grade, but it could already compete with a couple of varieties of instant, which it did well, lifting my spirits under a light breeze. And I'd prefer not to raise the issue that sunbathing in my case is a priori pointless! We men on vacation don't bother with such trifles, and everything is vanity except cocoa. Yes, cocoa is good...
Another hour passed in blissful idleness. Everything was peaceful and wonderful, but then my phantom in Xavier's mansion finished reading the book, and suddenly it became boring, and Tony was already running out of steam, increasingly glancing sideways at the sleeping Rhodey with hidden envy, so our conversation was clearly coming to an end, and my phantom had to hide somewhere so that I wouldn't have to send him on local airlines again. Ideally, at this point I should finally worry about the issue of how to feed the women, but... Hey! I'm Loki. I can't just go and do everything like a normal person. So instead of a reasonable and logical continuation of the path and searching for a store, I decided to slightly improve my armor with indestructible metal.
A gesture of will, and a "thermos" was born, and I pulled the armor out of my subspace. Now I could use Eric's talent - he could apply the coating in a truly "thin layer", but in the absence of a mutant master of metal at hand, we will use good old magic. Of course, you can simply "dip" the armor parts into liquid metal, but I do not need arthouse growths. So, having fenced off the area with a telekinetic barrier that does not allow small particles to pass through, I opened the thermos and began to slowly spray adamantium on the surface of the metal parts of my combat attire. Magic allowed me to maintain the plasticity of adamantium without any problems, and the metal of Uru was in no hurry to resist the will of the owner when I began to carry out microdiffusion to bond the layers. And everything would be fine, but slowly. I am not a natural telekinetic, and magical telekinesis is not a third hand that you control easily and instinctively. But things went on...
When Laura woke up, I, to my shame, missed it. It was just that at one tense moment, when the adamantium, submissive to my will, covered one of the helmet's horns with a layer of two tenths of a millimeter, the girl appeared next to me and silently began to watch as a thin stream of metal rose from the thermos and enveloped the artifact.
"Are you hungry?" I say the first adequate remark that comes to mind.
"…" the girl turned her gaze to me, blinked twice, listened to herself and nodded in agreement.
"That's bad, because there's no food," I sigh, turning the helmet to a new side. "I can offer cocoa."
- …? - the brown eyes blinked questioningly.
"That sweet brown thing that was in the thermos," I explained.
- ... - they blinked at me again, but now the nod of agreement came noticeably faster.
"There are bottles of water over there," I shake my head towards the bundle I took out of the refrigerator, "give me one."
Laura obediently stood up, went to the container and returned with a 1.5 liter container. I took a break from my work for a second to cast a transformation spell on the liquid, and the girl was able to watch in amazement as the clear water in the bottle transformed into another liquid right before her eyes.
- Now I'll finish making myself shiny and sparkling, and then we can go on. Be patient a little.
- ... - X-23 again didn't answer, only looking at me with a strange gaze, but, apparently having come to some conclusion, she began to unscrew the lid in a businesslike manner.
That's how the women found us when they woke up. I'm like this, muscular and fit, sitting on a lounge chair in green shorts, next to a futuristic-looking metal barrel from which a stream of metal rises, settling on the scales of a protective skirt, next to me, also on a lounge chair, sits a child, drinking cocoa from the neck of a plastic bottle and carefully watching my manipulations. We were great. I know.
"What are you doing?" Dr. Kinney asked, looking warily at the barrel.
"I'm strengthening my armor with adamantium," I finish the process and critically examine the element of protection, simultaneously checking it for magic perception by filling it with unstructured power. As with the rest of the armor that underwent the upgrade procedure, the response changed slightly, but did not become worse, and this was good.
"Adamantium?" the scientist clung to the significant word.
- I borrowed some supplies from Stryker, now I'm getting the hang of it, - sending the protective skirt back into the spatial pocket, I take out the right bracer. - I'm almost done, be patient for about twenty minutes, and then we'll move on.
"How do you do it?" the scientist couldn't help but ask, standing next to her daughter and watching my work for three minutes.
"A little magic, a little physics and a drop of inspiration…" I answered slowly, without stopping my work. "Most of the work is done with telekinesis, and only diffusion has to be accomplished by point curvature of space…"
The objective description of my actions, with the adaptation of Asgardian terminology to the earthly conceptual series, took about fifteen minutes, after which the work was finished. Having donned the armor and critically examined the result in the illusory mirror of the "ordinary phantom" type, I had to admit that I had changed for the better. The metal of Uru after hardening and polishing is very similar to gold, and this caused me some dislike. Well, because gold and green colors do not go well together, plus gold is still too pretentious and vulgar. Another matter is the steel cast of adamantium. Here it looked much more advantageous with Loki's green color.
And we will not pay attention to the looks and facial expressions of all sorts of wild earthlings! The fact that on their planet armor went out of fashion five hundred years ago does not mean that the entire universe has become similar to this barbaric trend!
- Ah... - Dr. Kinney couldn't resist. - Excuse me, Loki, but may I ask... why do you have such big horns on your helmet?
- They act as a mental magic amplifier. The principle is roughly similar to your antenna transmitters. I agree, it looks ambiguous, but... - I take away the armor, again appearing before the ladies in a light coat and a modern suit, - efficiency requires sacrifice. So, are you ready to continue our journey?
The answer was positive, and soon our mobile home was on its way. Three hours and thirty-two minutes later, we finally reached "civilization," as far as this proud word can be used to describe a small town with less than ten thousand residents, located in the middle of nowhere. The town looked appropriately: a deserted landscape, shabby, weather-beaten buildings, and slightly less shabby people on the streets. The mobile home, tricked out with the latest technology, looked downright alien here. But we, as the inhabitants of this house, did not care about such trifles, while the opportunity to finally stretch our legs and fill our bellies with something edible that the town provided, on the contrary, excited us. True, there were no cafes, restaurants, or even a banal hot dog stand or any other "street food" nearby. Well, after New York I was almost sure that there was a McDonald's on the moon. After another disgruntled croak in the stomachs of my beautiful companions... well, I flattered Sarah a little, a strategic decision was made to get supplies at the nearest store. Sandwiches are also food, and if there are any semi-finished products, there is a microwave in the trailer.
No sooner said than done, and here our company enters a typical supermarket of the "near the gas station" class... which was logical, because I didn't want to waste magic turning sand into gasoline... Or rather, I didn't know how. You have to sit, calculate the spell, strain yourself... and then also squirm with pouring the resulting liquid into the tank - to hell with it, such happiness. In short, I went into the gas station. Yuriko stayed at the pump to fill up with fuel, and the others followed me. The girl was a little shy, looking at the shelves, but after another croak of her stomach, she simply sniffed and followed the smell of food.
Having followed her with great interest and having nudged Sarah just a little to switch her attention to buying all sorts of feminine hygiene products, needed both "in general" and especially on the road, I became a witness to a charming picture. And no, it wasn't that Laura took packages of chips from the shelves and immediately started crunching them, but how she did it!
The child's eyes ran wild from the colorful packages and pictures on them, the enticing illustrations of delicious food on the labels made her soul rush around uncertainly, and the way the packaging was baffling. So she took a pack of Pringles, sniffed it carefully, concentratedly pursed her lips, studied the lid with her eyes and only after that very businesslike and serious she tried to open it. Then the lid gave in surprisingly easily, and the girl's eyes widened - she clearly did not expect such ease. But! The opening was not complete! There was a sealed piece of paper under the lid. Having learned from experience, X-23 tries to remove it gently - without effort, but in vain - the paper resists. The girl is perplexed - her gentle tugging, which would have been enough for the lid long ago, is not enough. She begins to pull harder, but still carefully. The packaging does not give in. Laura brings her eyebrows together. The effort increases. An expressive "cr-r-rak" - and the barrier is torn off, and a sharp smell of spices hits the sensitive nose. The girl wrinkles her nose and cautiously looks inside. Sniffs. Freezes... And, literally in one second, her facial expression changes, having time to reflect that the object has been recognized as a food product by a high authority, after which there is an instant reaction, and the palm is already pulling out the first chip, stuffing it into the mouth. That's it - then the "face-brick" and "crunch-crunch-crunch" mode is activated, and the sighting eyes are already searching the rest of the shelves in search of new prey.
Oh yeah, and the unnecessary lids and cardboard boxes are already on the floor, and no one cares about them.
"Laura!" Sarah perked up at the sound of a new victim being opened - this time a bun in a very rustling bag. Apparently she realized that the child, who had never seen the world outside the base, might simply not understand the concept of a store in general and a self-service store in particular.
"Hey!" the young guy at the cash register, who had been bored reading some magazine until then, noticed something was wrong and only cast a lazy glance at us as we entered.
"Don't worry," I used my signature smile, "half a day on the road, and the refrigerator has shown the bottom, now the child is hungry and has gone wild, I'll pay for everything, of course."
- Oh, okay, - the guy relaxed. - Are you going far?
"Well, just like that," having fenced off the area between the young salesman and me with a light illusion that makes a person not pay attention to the fact that next to him they are explaining things to a rather adult-looking girl that any preschooler knows perfectly well, "we decided to travel a little, see our native country, but we got a little carried away and didn't calculate the provisions.
"It happens," nodded the clearly bored guy. "At least there were no problems with fuel, getting stuck in the middle of our desert is below average pleasure..." he clearly wanted to chatter some more, but then Yuriko entered the shop.
"Diesel, plug it," she told me.
"Eighty-seven gallons," the cashier whistled, checking the computer, "that's a big tank," he tapped the machine. "That'll be two hundred and fourteen dollars and eighty-nine cents. Anything else, miss?"
"Sir?" she turned to me.
- Now my wife and daughter will get some food, and add it to the bill.
"Ok-o-ok," you don't have to be a mind reader to read the guy's thoughts. They were openly envious of me – an expensive suit, a super-expensive "tourist trailer" with a very handsome personal driver, and he was sitting here, wearing out his pants. On the one hand, I understood him perfectly, but on the other, I had no intention of feeling guilty about it. Nevertheless, the conversation died down on its own, and we spent the remaining ten minutes that Sarah and Laura emptied the shelves in silence.
But then the woman and the child approached the cashier, and, leaving another seventy dollars on top of the two hundred that had been paid for diesel fuel, we returned to our transport with a pile of purchases. Now all that was left was to place all of this, bought out of hunger, in the refrigerator and other places where provisions were stored. Well, and then we would spend some time warming up and consuming some of the provisions mentioned above and move on.
A little later. Somewhere in the sky.
"Did you find anything, Barton?" a black man with an eye patch asked his assistant.
- No, sir, - the operative shook his head, - in none of the directions. Moreover, there is a suspicion that the UN has become interested in this issue and is conducting its own investigation.
"That's all we need," Fury grimaced. "As soon as you find any traces, let me know immediately."
"Yes, sir," with this the subordinate left his office, leaving the manager alone with his gloomy thoughts.
When did it all go wrong? He could easily answer that question: when Nick contacted Stark Jr. At first, everything was going, if not well, then within the bounds of what was acceptable and expected. The introduction of Romanov, the collection of biometric data, the preparation of the necessary stimulants. It would only be a matter of time before the billionaire's psyche and actions were directed in the right direction, but suddenly, like a bad streak. Without any prerequisites or intelligence, Stark not only gets off the hook, but also makes a number of very... unpleasant accusations, and Natasha mysteriously disappears, but at the place of her disappearance, they find a "souvenir from the homeland."
And as if that wasn't enough! Just when the prospects of getting an alternative to the obstinate billionaire arose, who, although not having such resources, possessed the necessary technologies and, most importantly, could be attracted to cooperation with much less difficulty and risk, when... Ivan Vanko disappeared in exactly the same way!
From a closed cell, surrounded by the best agents and surveillance equipment! And on his bed there was the same Soviet flag!
And if with Natasha's disappearance it was still possible, albeit reluctantly and gritting one's teeth, to allow both her repeated betrayal and the real possibility of her former colleagues getting to the defector. Even if it was difficult, even if it was extremely costly and would require several weeks, if not months of extremely intensive preparation, and, in addition to everything, it would also indicate that his headquarters was heavily invested in the Russians and everything he knew about their current agenda was not worth a broken cent, but it was still possible and acceptable. Unjustifiably costly and difficult, no one needed it and completely out of the Russian style, but acceptable. However, when the same thing happens with a prisoner whose presence no one could have predicted even a week ago... No. No way. Impossible!
But it turned out that it was possible. And such possibilities were frankly frightening. What would happen next time? Would they drag off the Minister of Defense? The President? Would they drag a bomb into the Pentagon? It was necessary to take urgent measures, strengthen the defense, security systems, drag all operatives, agents and even service personnel through a polygraph.
Against this background, Stark's obstinacy faded into the background. Of course, the possibility of his connection with Russian intelligence or other services of the former Warsaw Pact countries was being worked on, but this probability was vanishingly small - he refused to cooperate with the special services of his country in an extremely rude and harsh manner, with which his father worked closely, why would he cooperate with others? He did not even have commercial interests in that direction! In addition, all his contacts were under surveillance, and no one, even somehow, through third or fifth hands, connected with "foreign colleagues" was noticed. But at the same time, it was impossible not to notice the fact that both disappearances were primarily beneficial to the magnate. Of course, he did not know and could not know about Romanov, but, if we assume that foreign intelligence services really began to play their game with him, they could enlighten him. As well as "help" with Vanko. But what's the point? With such capabilities, they would no longer need Stark! With such capabilities, they no longer needed anything at all! After all, then Nicholas himself would now be sitting not in his office, but in a cell with unknown kidnappers, awaiting interrogation!
Once again, the puzzle didn't fit together. It's a pity that Stark is too much of a media figure, and he has increased his security measures by orders of magnitude - simply "inviting him to talk" by pumping him with truth serum won't work. And then there was the suspicious death of military adviser Stryker, the information hype around which was barely hushed up in an acceptable time frame, and the investigation of his activities not only turned the entire mutant department upside down, but also revealed a new disappearance of a carrier of valuable information - his assistant, although this time without a flag. And, as the cherry on the cake, the management, having noticed the "sharp movements" in his headquarters, began to inquire about their causes, which only complicated the overall situation, at the same time preventing him from working normally. It's not that this pile of problems was something beyond Nick's control, but there was definitely nothing pleasant in the situation.
It remained to hope that the results of the internal investigation would clarify the situation. And that things would not get any worse…
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