Chapter 21: Chapter 21 Unholy Trinity
Immediately after accepting Phineas into my group I put him on creating a Blue Box, as it was crucial for my plans of actually putting my company on the map fast enough that S.H.I.E.L.D (or someone even more shady) couldn't try and shut me down.
Well, almost immediately.
As it turned out, after agonizing over the notes I had left him for over a day, Phineas finally succumbed to the temptation of using the Brain Booster in order to solve the schematics.
And after that he hadn't stopped.
Which mean that when he knocked on my door, he had slept a total of four hours in the last three days. As I didn't want to find out what happened when you combine sleep deprivation with Arc Reactor-experimentation, I ordered him to rest in the living quarters, where he fell asleep the moment he crashed onto the couch.
While Mason slept off his insomnia, the rest of us got to working on our respective projects. Burstein had finally found a supplier for the bovine hides small enough that it wasn't likely to show up on anyone's radar (in this universe, you never knew who was watching, just that someone probably was), and while he was waiting for them to arrive, he was helping Sterns with developing an Omni-cure.
It was a medicine that was based on the regenerative abilities the serums had granted me, and once perfected should be able to boost every single human to just beyond Captain America in terms of physical health and strength, without giving them gamma-mutations or Extremis-heat.
The greatest problem developing such a cure was that it had to work on every human, and given that every human had unique DNA (not even twins were absolutely identical in their DNA as they grew older) finding a way to make the Cure work for everyone without accidentally killing those few who turned out to be incompatible proved to be extremely difficult.
Combining their super intellect, Burstein and Sterns estimated they would have a prototype within five years.
While it would take too long for it to be useful in the months leading up to Loki's invasion, I was mainly interested in the derivate Sterns was making based on the combined research he and Burstein had performed.
Using SCIENCE! Sterns had managed to isolate the part of Extremis that retroactively fixed the user's body like it had done with Killian, and used it to program Extremis in such a way that it used the bioelectric and metabolic processes of the body to "repair" the body to an ideal version of itself.
Basically, he had created our very own Fountain of Youth.
Actually bringing it to the mainstream market could take decades, but I wasn't really worried about that, since I had an entirely different demographic in mind. Every year, roughly 16 Billion dollars is spent on plastic surgery and various other ways to halt the signs of aging, with the rich and famous of course bringing up the biggest share in these monumental expenses.
Imagine what they would be willing to pay for the only thing capable of returning their youth back to them with 100% natural looking results, as opposed to the plastic mannequins that surgery ends up making, all with just a single shot.
Imagine what they would be willing to do…
So, I had Mason working on a project which would put us on the map of the masses and Sterns on a project which would entice people with more money than sense to be willing to pay through their noses for our product, helped by Burstein, who's idea for indestructible leather would probably increase our favour with law enforcement and the like to great heights, as we were planning to sell the armour at a vastly cheaper rate than Kevlar, while still making 100 dollars apiece.
And while my team of scientists gleefully put their super intelligent brains to the test, I was working on a project of my own, one for which I dragged Phineas along, since his connection to my target could turn out to be the decidingfactor for a positive outcome of this particular meeting.
"Hello there, Mister Toomes! Michael McCole, may I come in please?"
Standing nonplussed in his hallway of his house after he had opened the door at my knocking, Adrian Toomes looked up at my massive form with surprise clearly written on his face.
This time I wasn't in my armour, but instead I was in civilian gear, consisting of a pair of jeans tucked in combat boots, and a windbreaker zipped up to my throat in order to hide my more visible mutations. Originally I had bought a suit for this meeting, which 'unfortunately' had to be handcrafted, as I couldn't find one that fit me well enough due to my large size (and also because I couldn't quite resist the need to splurge when Burstein returned the back-pack I had given him, which to my amazement still held roughly 5000 dollars). However, I quickly realized that showing up to this guy's door in a handmade suit would probably serve to only set him against me from the get go.
No, just sturdy workman's clothing would be the best approach, as it would increase my chances of building a positive rapport with the blue-collar worker. Standing in his grease-stained overalls, Mason was clasping his hands behind his back next to me with a grin on his face.
"Phineas. The hell is this?" Toomes muttered lowly, though his eyes didn't leave mine.
"This is the guy I called you about! He's the one that gave me a new job! That's why I, you know, haven't really been showing up lately." Mason trailed off, as Toomes turned his head to look at his former colleague with a flat stare.
"Really? Now I'm wondering what kind of job requires you to just up and leave without letting your co-workers know anything at all. Just 'poof!', vanish from the face of the earth like that."
And with those words, Toomes turns back towards me again, fixing me with a stare that would probably have been intimidating if it weren't for the fact that (as he was now) he posed literal zero threat to me.
So I just let out a generous sounding laugh as I try to releave some of the tension that had sprung up between us, placing one enormous hand on the man's shoulder (which prompted a raised eyebrow and an impressive scowl from him), as I leaned forwards a little.
"I'm sorry about the hurry with which Mason left your employment Mister Toomes. But, he has told me a lot about you in the short time he's worked for me, and I think that I have found a way to pay you back for your troubles." I say with an easy grin, trying to win the man with my charmes, but it looks like Adrian is intending to play things close to the chest, as he doesn't say a word at my reassurance.
Instead he looks past me in order to fix Phineas with a heavy look, raising an eyebrow in question.
"He for real?"
"Don't worry about it man, he checks out. I swear, you're gonna wanna hear what he has to say." Mason says in a serious voice, though he can't quite keep his excitement from showing through.
Mulling it over for a few moments, Toomes finally seemed to cave to his ex-colleague's assurances, taking a step back from me and motioning us inside with a short jerk of his neck.
"Come inside then. Let's hear what you got to say."
And with those words, I entered the Toomes residence.
It wasn't the fancy modern house that I saw so long ago in the Spiderman: Homecoming movie, since Adrian had bought that with the money he had managed to acquire as the Vulture. Instead it was just a modest two-story house in Queens, thoroughly lived in and well-loved if the family pictures that lined the walls were anything to go by.
Leading us to his living room, Adrian gestured half-heartedly to his couch for us to take a seat why he walked on to the kitchen.
"You guys want a beer?"
Both of us acquiesced (even though it wouldn't really do anything to me, it would still be rude to decline when a man offers a stranger a beer from his personal stash) and in a few moments Adrian had returned, handing me and Mason a bottle as he took a seat in a heavy armchair with a deep sigh.
Not really paying attention to the beer in my hand, I twisted the top off without any effort, though I was taken off guard when I saw Toomes' eyes widening at the casual act.
Looking at the cap in my hand, I understood why.
This brand didn't have screw caps on their bottles.
Glancing at the villain in the making, I let out a sheepish grin, giving a careless shrug.
"Always ate my vegetables as a kid." I give as an explanation for the small feat of strength, and thankfully Toomes didn't push, simply shaking his head and using a bottle opener to get to his own beer.
After taking a long gulp, he gave a satisfied sigh and licked his lips, before he looked at me with narrowed eyes.
"You said something about paying me back?"
Scooting forwards on the couch, I let out a massive grin as I start putting my plan in motion.
"Mister Toomes, how long have you worked in construction and salvage?"
"Near on twenty years I reckon. Why?" Adrian asked suspiciously, but I just continued my questioning, confident that all those self-helpbooks about social interaction I had read would guide me through the conversation to a desirable outcome.
"And during those two decades, how many men and women do you know that by now have become, for whatever reason, unable to continue working, or hold a steady job?"
The rather personal question sets him off, and he sits up straighter in order to tear me a new one when he's held back by the placating motions of Mason, proving that my hunch in bringing him along in order to smooth things over had been correct. Settling back down in his armchair, Toomes fixed me with an angry glare, before answering my question.
"About thirty, I guess, give or take. What's it to you?" he says curtly.
At his wary question, I spread out my arms in a gesture of absolute generosity (nearly smacking Phineas in the mouth on accident) as I beam at the other man.
"I want to hire them!"
Clearly disbelieving my claim, Toomes scratches his cheek as his eyes study my face, trying to discern my motives.
"How many, and what do you need 'em for?"
"All of them!" I reply with a happy grin, which only serves to make Adrian even more weary, though I notice the interest in his voice and eyes, and I know that I got him hooked.
Now all that's left is to reel him in.
"The hell you need thirty cripples for?"
"I'm starting my own company, Mister Toomes. It's going to mainly focus on technology and medicine. Now, what I'm suggesting is that those people you know that are unable to get employed, start working for me. They get a respectable pay-check, and in return I hope to learn from them how to heal and support people like them to the point that they can be reintroduced to the job market as fully capable workers."
It's a load of sentimental crap: what I'm doing is taking a page out of A.I.M.'s book in regards to the types of mooks they recruited. Most (if not all) of them had been disfigured or disabled veterans, who when healed proved to be not only a capable workforce, but also a very loyal one.
I'm hoping to apply the same principle on whatever mooks Adrian can set me up with.
While it seems that Toomes has some suspicions about my story being a load of bull, the prospect of setting his friends up with a job was clearly making him consider accepting my proposal.
Finally, it was Mason who sealed the deal for me, just as I had planned for him to do.
I love my super-smart brain.
"C'mon Adrian. I'm telling you, this guy is for real. This isn't any of that feel-good crap, from what I've seen we have a realchance of making people better again. And the pay is good. It's nothing amazing, but it's good. Everything's better than nothing at all, right?" Phineas says softly in an urgent tone, making Toomes sink deep in thought.
After nearly a minute of silence (during which the beer in my hand has become disgustingly warm, of course) Adrian looks at me with a considering glance, before placing his beer on the coffee table, leaning forwards in his chair, hands folded underneath his chin.
"Allright. Let's talk business."
It was three days later that I stood in the centre of Manhattan (finally in my fancy new suit, yay!) with a bulky case in one hand, facing the imposing façade of one of the most well-known law firms in the universe (or at least, for those back in my old one it was, here it was just one of many).
Striding through the revolving doors with confidence oozing from every square inch of me (which considering my size, amounted to a lot) I made my way to the enormous counter standing in the central hall, which had a cute secretary sitting behind it, turning from her screen to me with a practised smile.
Which slowly fell from her face the more and more she had to crane her neck to look up at me, seeing my shades-wearing face grin back down at her.
"H-How may I help you? Sir?"
Placing one elbow on the countertop, I leisurely lean against the black marble, my tone easy and somewhat flirting.
"I'm here to see one of your lawyers."
"And who might that be sir?"
"Jeri Hogarth."
"Sir! Sir, you can't just walk in there! Sir! Sir, you don't have an appointment!"
I ignored the calls of the secretary, who amazingly enough had followed me all the way to Jeri's floor as I just kept on walking, my great strides due to my long legs easily keeping me ahead from the flustered girl in her high heels.
Finally I spot Trinity's office, and without further ado, I simply barge inside, making the lawyer-lady nearly jump out of her chair in surprise, before her eyes fall on me and her nostrils widen in rage.
"How dare you just waltz in here like that!"
Before I can reply, the secretary has finally caught up to me, her entire face going white as she spots the furious face of Hogarth.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I told him that he needed an appointment in order to see you, but he just wouldn't stop."
"Thank you Martha, I'll take it from here. Call security, ask them what the hell they are doing that this man can just walk into my office unopposed, then have them come here and throw him out at once!"
If she thought her tirade would scare me off, then she was sorely mistaken as I simply sauntered over to the chair in front of her desk, slowly lowering myself onto the furniture as to not accidentally crush something underneath my weight by just flopping down on it.
"R-Right!"
And with that, the girl turns on her heel, making her skirt flare nicely around her hips as she stalks away. Looking at Hogarth from the corner of my eye, I can see her give the secretary an equally appraising glance, and I can't help but chuckle.
Seeing the questioning look she sends me, I decide to elaborate.
"A fine choice."
Somewhat made uncomfortable by my apparent ease even after I had just heard that security was on its way to throw me out, Hogarth slowly sat down in her office chair again, regarding me warily.
"Yes, Martha is a highly qualified secretary-"
"Not what I meant." I interrupted, giving the woman a knowing smirk, causing her eyes to widen and her lips to compress.
"I'm sure that I have no idea what you are replying." She says primly, though her tone is dangerous and getting the hint I back off with a smile.
For a moment, an awkward silence falls over the office as we just look at each other, one which I deliberately allow to stretch in order to make Hogarth as uncomfortable as possible, as I'm hoping that if I can get her on the back-foot, she'll be easier for me to employ for my own causes, instead of getting trapped in her lawyer-talk once she gets going.
Seeing her shift in her chair, I decide to start Step 11b: Have Hogarth make sure that my company is up to standard and ready to take the world by storm.
"Tell me something, Miss Hogarth-"
"Mrs. Hogarth." She interrupts with the frosty voice, absent-mindedly rubbing at the wedding band on her finger, though the reply seems more of a reflex to me than genuine outrage.
"Mrs. Hogarth." I acquiesce with a smile, before continuing.
"I have a business proposition for you."
Trinity narrows her eyes at my blasé tone, before dismissing me with a wave of her hand.
"In that case, you should've made an appointment, as Martha has told you repeatedly."
"Let's not kid ourselves here, Mrs. Hogarth. It would've taken months before you would've even considered seeing me, if at all. I thought it better to get your attention this way."
And with that, I reach forwards (seeing Hogarth lean back in response, maintaining distance between us) as I place the bulky case on her desk, ignoring her fuming expression as it's now sitting one what seemed like important files she had been in the process of working on.
"Sir, I don't know what the meaning of this is-"
At that moment, the door behind me opened, and glancing over my shoulder I could see an older overweight gentleman with two brutes besides them (though compared to my own bulk they really didn't look like much) and Hogarth continued in a smug tone as her security team stood behind my chair.
"-but this is the part where you leave my office. I would say good day to you, but we lawyers already have a reputation for being liars, so I'll just admit that I sincerely hope I'll never see you again."
After she's done speaking, the fat man walks forwards, placing a chubby hand on my broad shoulder, his voice hard as he glares at me.
"Right son, fun's over. Let's get you out of here."
Slowly I can see his expression going from an attempt at intimidating to confused, and briefly I wonder why when I notice that the knuckles on his hands are white with the pressure he's exerting on my shoulder.
Besides a very light touch, I don't even feel it.
Grinning to myself, I turn back towards Hogarth, who'se looking confused as to why her security is merely touching me instead of hauling me off.
"I'm not leaving until you've opened the case, Mrs. Hogarth."
My refusal to leave spurs one of the brutes into action, who approaches my other side, placing his hand underneath my arm with an annoyed grunt as he gives a heave.
"All right, sir, you're leaving now-"
Only to nearly dislocate his arm as I don't even budge. Smiling to myself, I cross my legs as I lean back into the chair, folding my hands underneath my chin as I keep my eyes focused on Hogarth, who I can see is starting to understand just what's going on here.
"Open the case, Mrs. Hogarth. Inside you'll find something that'll make the both of us very rich."
"What the…" the older security guard murmurs to himself in shock, as his colleague is now violently tugging at my arm, throwing his whole body into the motion.
It's like watching someone trying to tear down a statue with his bare hands.
While I could easily fight off Hogarth's entire security team, that would honestly be some really bad PR for me, since beating up guys who're just doing their jobs is unlikely to go over well with the masses and I doubt that Trinity would like to do business with me after seeing me curb stomp these squishy humans.
So instead, I just remain seated in my chair, as I slowly start heating up my skin, making both guards let go with yelps of pain.
Glancing from her guards to my unmoving position across her, Jeri finally glances at the case in front of her, and I can see her thinking about my offer of riches, before she squares her shoulders.
"This had better be something good, Mister-"
"McCole. Michael McCole."
Catching the eye of her head guard, Jeri motions for him to leave, which he does very reluctantly, him and his two goons throwing distrustful looks over their shoulders back at me, before they're finally gone through the door and I'm alone with Trinity.
Giving me one last weary look, Hogarth undoes the clasps on the side of the heavy-duty case, and in one quick movement throws open the lid, quickly scooting backwards as she does so, carefully looking inside to see-
"What am I looking at?"
"I call it a Blue Box."
Looking at me over the edge of the case's lid, Hogarth gives me a very droll look.
"How… imaginative."
I merely shrug at her barb, still in the same position as when her guards experienced first-hand what the difficulties were of moving someone with super durability who has no intention of moving.
"Do you have any blueprints?"
"They are underneath the device."
I hear the shuffling of papers as Hogarth thumbs though the small booklet in which the specs of my Blue Box are written, dumbed down enough for a high schooler to understand.
And Jeri understands it just fine, if her small gasp is anything to go by.
"These numbers, of what it can generate… are those real?"
"100% real, Mrs. Hogarth, confirmed after extensive testing by myself, as well as two doctors and an engineer."
"The part in the file about emissions. Where's the rest of it?"
"That is all of it."
"You're fucking with me."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
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