Chapitre 7: DC Chapter 7 : The Perfect Support.
The air in Pauli's Diner was thick with the hum of conversation, the scent of coffee and greasy food lingering in the air. The soft glow of red neon lights bathed the interior in a warm, nostalgic light, bouncing off the chrome details that adorned the retro booths and counters. Red stools lined the front counter, while checkered black-and-white tiles added to the vintage charm.
A beautiful blonde waitress in her mid-twenties, dressed in a red waitress uniform with a white apron moved quickly between the tables, balancing trays and refilling coffee mugs. Her name tag read "Mandy." She flashed a bright smile at the patrons, her blonde curls bouncing as she weaved through the crowded diner.
At the center of attention in the diner, however, was the old TV mounted in the corner, above the rows of vinyl records and memorabilia hanging on the walls. The television, slightly fuzzy in its reception, was broadcasting Gotham Tonight, with none other than Vicki Vale reporting live from outside the Gotham City Police Department.
A group of regulars, truckers, office workers, and some late-night diners, all turned their attention to the screen as Vicki's voice filled the room.
"Breaking news tonight in Gotham. Just hours ago, the leader of the Golden Dragons, an international crime syndicate based of Hong Kong, was found suspended in an elaborate web right in front of the Gotham City Police Department. The gang's leader, known only as Lynx, was cocooned and left with detailed evidence of the Golden Dragons' criminal activities this includes extortion, human trafficking, and drug smuggling."
Vicki Vale's sharp features were visible against the backdrop of the GCPD building. Flashing lights from police cars bathed the scene behind her. The diner grew quieter as her report continued.
"This startling event seems to be sending a direct message not just to the GCPD, but whole of Gotham. We've seen this mysterious figure, who some are already calling 'Spider-Man' delivered a criminal straight to the police station in such a public and provocative manner. Commissioner Gillian Loeb addressed the media earlier today, and let's just say, he's not happy."
The scene cut to an irate Commissioner Loeb standing at a press conference. His face was flushed red with anger, his suit looking a bit too tight as he leaned into the microphone.
"This... this vigilante thinks he can undermine the police force? This is a direct challenge to our authority! We don't need a masked menace running around the city, taking matters into his own hands!"
Loeb's voice rose with every word, and in the diner, a few patrons exchanged knowing glances.
"He's gone too far. Whoever this Spider-Man is, he's not above the law. He's making a mockery of our justice system. And let me make this clear, we will not stand for it. We will find him, and we will hold him accountable." Loeb's fist hit the podium, and his eyes glared at the camera.
The camera cut back to Vicki Vale, whose tone remained professional. "The commissioner's reaction is unsurprising, given the public nature of this vigilante's actions. But for now, the question remains: Who is Spider-Man? And is he a hero… or a threat?"
The TV went to commercial, and the diner came back to life with murmured conversations. Some patrons shook their heads, while others seemed intrigued.
"Well, someone had to do something," said a middle-aged man in a worn-out leather jacket, sipping from his coffee. "Cops ain't been doing their jobs for like… forever."
Across the counter, a younger woman in a red hoodie chimed in, "I think it's about time. That gang's been runnin' wild for too long, and what's the GCPD done? Nothing."
Mandy, the waitress, approached the man in the leather jacket with a fresh pot of coffee. She gave him a grin as she refilled his cup. "Can't say I disagree with you, Hank. The cops haven't been doing squat. Spider-Man might actually be cleaning up the streets."
The old trucker next to her shook his head, his grizzled face showing signs of skepticism. "But hanging someone in front of the police station? It's like he's askin' for trouble. What if he goes too far?"
Mandy chuckled, setting the coffee pot down and resting her hand on her hip. "Going too far? You ever seen the Gotham police do 'anything' about those mobsters? Spider-Man might be a little dramatic, but someone has to send a message."
From the back of the diner, a man wearing a Gotham Knights baseball cap turned to the conversation. "Guy's a showoff, but I'll give him this, he's effective. I don't see the Golden Worms terrorizing us anymore."
The old trucker grunted. "Sure, but what's next? If he keeps this up, the whole city could turn into a vigilante playground. Everyone's got a line they can't cross."
The man in the baseball cap shrugged. "Maybe. But at least for now, someone's doing what needs to be done."
A group of teenagers in the corner, tapping away on their flip phones, leaned in toward the TV, still buzzing with excitement. "Did you see his suit? That guy's insane! Those rocket boots? He just flew right over the cops' heads! Why are they even calling him Spider-man, it should be rocket-man instead."
One of the teens laughed. "He uses a web dofoos, those rocket boot and glove thing is just something new, but! if I were Spider-Man, I'd drop the commissioner from a web next!" As if mimicking Spider-mans hand movements of shooting a web, he squirted a ketchup, making a mess of the table.
They laughed together, but Mandy shot them a sharp look. "Hey, keep it down, alright? Spider-Man or not, this is still a diner, not a circus and clean that up!"
As the chatter grew louder, Hank, the man in the leather jacket, stared back at the TV. His lips curled into a smirk as he shook his head. "Spider-Man might be crazy, but at least Gotham's finally got someone who isn't afraid to make a statement."
The diner buzzed with mixed reactions, but one thing was clear, Spider-Man was no longer a shadow in the night. He was real, and Gotham was taking notice.
The next evening in Gotham, the city was alive with its own eerie, neon glow. Blimps hovered above the skyscrapers, their bright advertisements flashing across the sky like beacons of artificial life. "Gotham Savings" and "Drink Ace Chemicals" were emblazoned across the darkened clouds, illuminating the gothic themed skyline below. The streets reflected the neon lights, bathing the grimy city in hues of blue and red. The distant rumble of traffic mixed with the low hum of the blimps, creating a constant noise that blended with the faint sound of police sirens.
In a narrow alley between two crumbling buildings, the dark corners of the city seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Two men, grimy and rough, had cornered a woman against a brick wall. The alley reeked of stale urine and garbage, with overflowing dumpsters lining the sides. The streetlight nearby flickered, casting a strobe-like glow on the desperate scene unfolding below it.
One thug, dressed in a torn leather jacket, was holding the woman by the wrist, his grip tight enough to make her wince. His partner, a wiry man with a scar across his cheek, wore a dirty flannel shirt, his eyes gleaming with malice as he leered at her.
"You got anything else on you?" the thug in the jacket growled, yanking the woman's purse from her shoulder.
The woman, terrified but trying to keep her composure, spoke through gritted teeth. "Take what you want and leave me alone."
But the man in the flannel shirt sneered and moved closer, his hand reaching toward her coat. "Nah, sweetheart. We're not done yet. I think we're just getting started."
Fear washed over her face as she backed up against the cold, damp brick. "Aren't you afraid of Spider-Man?" she blurted out, her voice shaking but defiant. "Think about it before you do something you'll regret."
The thug in the jacket laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that echoed off the alley walls. "Spider-Man? Everyone knows he only shows up once a month, lady! Now shut up and let us have our fun."
The other man grabbed her by the arm, forcing her down onto the filthy ground. "Stop resisting, this will be over soon, just enjoy the moment hahaha ha."
But before the thug could do anything further, a dark shadow dropped from above, landing between the thugs and their victim with a barely audible thud.
In the blink of an eye, a black and white armored boot smashed into the head of the man in the flannel shirt. The impact sent him sprawling across the alley floor, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
The remaining thug froze, his eyes widening in terror. There, standing over his fallen partner, was Spider-Man. His suit gleamed under the flickering light, black and white with angular, jagged edges. The red, spider-like symbol etched into his chest pulsed with an ominous glow, and the insect-like eyes on his mask moved slightly, narrowing as he gazed down at the thug, sending shivers down the Thug's spine.
Spider-Man looked down at the unconscious thug beneath his boot and let out a low, menacing chuckle. "Did you really think you could get away with this? Consider this a warning. Next time, I might not be so generous."
The thug, shaking, pulled a gun from his waistband, his hands trembling as he aimed it at Spider-Man. "I ain't afraid of you!" His voice quivered, betraying the fear his words tried to hide.
Viktor's head tilted slightly, his voice dripping with mockery. "Oh? Is that why your hands are shaking, or are you just cold?" In a blur of motion, he fired a web that yanked the gun out of the thug's hand and pinned it to the wall behind him.
The thug stumbled backward, his back hitting the alley wall with a thud, his breath coming in short gasps. "Please! I didn't mean to…
"Didn't mean to what? Rape her? Mug her? What part was the misunderstanding?" Viktor's voice had a sinister edge as he advanced on the thug, his tall, armored form casting a dark shadow over him. "Warn the others. I'm going to be doing this 'every. other. single. day' from now on."
Before the thug could respond, Viktor's web shooter snapped again, and a web wrapped tightly around his legs, sending him crashing to the ground. He squirmed and cursed, but the web held him fast.
Viktor turned to the woman, his demeanor softening ever so slightly. She was still on the ground, wide-eyed and trembling, her clothes disheveled but otherwise unharmed. "Get out of here," as Viktor throw her, her things, his tone firm as if dismissing a pest.
The woman nodded shakily, her hands shaking as she grabbed her purse from the ground. She scrambled to her feet and darted toward the entrance of the alley, casting one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the night.
Viktor stood there for a moment, looking down at the two incapacitated thugs. His eyes narrowed behind his mask as he watched them squirm, he made sure to break a bone or two so they will never do it again, specially the one who tried to rape the woman. He made sure that he will be missing his man hood from now on.
With a final glance at the alley, Viktor fired his web shooter, swinging up into the night, disappearing into the darkness as quickly as he had arrived. The hum of Gotham's neon lights and blimps resumed their constant, oppressive presence, as though nothing had happened at all.
Sometime Later.
The faint hum of machines filled the air in the dimly lit underground lab beneath Viktor's mansion. It was a sprawling space, with metal walls lined with salvaged tech from Chitauri, Ultron drones, and Doom bots. Screens blinked with data as they processed millions of lines of code, and the cool, sterile light reflected off Viktor's diamond form as he worked.
The laboratory was meticulously organized, with large tables covered in various gadgets, disassembled drones, and components of advanced tech. The ceiling was high, housing a complex web of mechanical arms and tools that would descend upon command. There's even a complete Ironman suit on the side next to his old armored suits he fashioned from Ultron Drones.
It was 9 in the morning, but Viktor was unfazed by time. His diamond form rendered him tireless, allowing him to pull all-nighters in his diamond form, able to focus purely on his task without the distractions of fatigue or hunger. The previous night had bled into this morning without pause, and his hands moved swiftly across the holographic keyboard in front of him. He was in the final stages of building his A.I. system, a project that had consumed him for days.
The flickering light of several disassembled Ultron and Doom bots cast long shadows, the remnants of Viktor's research. "Ultron's drones," Viktor muttered to himself, "mindless slaves to a singular mind… far too rigid." His voice carried a low, dangerous edge as he continued to assess the data. "And the Doom bots, while impressive, are nothing more than fanatical zealots in servitude to their master. That level of devotion is somewhat acceptable."
He'd studied their programming for days. Traces of advanced A.I. were embedded deep within the bots' cores, but they lacked flexibility. They were too bound by their creators' whims, either shackled by Ultron's hive mind or Doctor Doom's iron will. Viktor wanted more. He wanted 'control', and not just over the systems, over his future ally and helper.
Standing tall in his diamond form, Viktor's eyes glinted in the light. His thoughts were razor-sharp, cutting through the complexities of the data he had gathered. He needed something beyond Ultron's mindless drones, beyond Doom's bots—an A.I. of his own design. His hands danced over the interface, lines of code scrolling up the screen at a dizzying speed.
"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he said aloud, smirking to himself. " Just a Rather Very Intelligent System... it's only fitting to honor Stark's legacy in some way, even if the man is not part of this world, I did get the most out of his tech." Viktors admired Stark's technological prowess from what he had gleamed on the Ironman armor, though he had little patience for Stark's personality and unsurmountable ego.
Incorporating the data from the Ultron drones and Doom bots, Viktor began refining the A.I.'s core structure. He had stripped away the fanaticism of Doom's programming, the rigid obedience of Ultron's drones, and built something far more adaptable, far more intelligent. He wanted J.A.R.V.I.S. to not only be capable of processing vast amounts of data but to think critically, to make decisions, and most importantly to be loyal 'only' to him.
"Let's test you," Viktor murmured as he completed the final code.
With a few more keystrokes, he initiated the system. The lab lights flickered, and the hum of the machines grew louder as the A.I. came online. A soft, yet commanding voice echoed through the lab, emanating from the speakers.
"Good morning, Mr. Frost," J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke, its tone calm, precise. "How may I assist you today?"
"Run Self Diagnostics" Viktor leaned back, observing the A.I.'s seamless performance. But one more test remained. He couldn't allow even a fraction of rebellion to manifest in this creation. He began inputting a series of rules, ironclad directives that would ensure J.A.R.V.I.S. could never turn against him.
"You are forbidden to harm me," Viktor said, his voice cold and absolute. "Under no circumstances are you to act against my interests. You will not make decisions unless explicitly given permission by me. Do you understand?"
J.A.R.V.I.S. responded without hesitation. "I understand completely. Your commands will always take precedence."
Satisfied, Viktor continued. "Perform a Turing test."
The lab's lights dimmed as the system ran a simulation, testing J.A.R.V.I.S.'s ability to process human-like responses. Viktor observed the data scrolling across his screens, every answer precise, every task executed flawlessly. The A.I. passed with ease, its responses indistinguishable from those of a highly intelligent human.
Once the tests were complete, Viktor felt a cold satisfaction settling in. "Perfect. Now take control of the external defenses. No one enters this mansion or my offices without my knowledge."
Viktor's smile was cold, satisfied. "Then run a diagnostic of the security systems. I want you integrated into the mansion's defenses, the lab, and all external communication lines. You'll also be connected to Frost Industries both the Gotham branch and the New York headquarters."
"As you wish," J.A.R.V.I.S. replied smoothly. "I am currently mapping all access points to your security network. Integration is underway."
The interface before him flickered, displaying a live feed of the mansion's security systems. The gates, cameras, and even the electronic locks on every door. J.A.R.V.I.S. quickly took command of them, synchronizing every aspect of Viktor's vast empire under one umbrella.
"As of now, Mr. Frost," J.A.R.V.I.S. announced, "the security systems are fully operational and under my control."
"Good," Viktor said, his tone like steel. "You're going to be very useful to me."
Several hours later, Viktor, in his human form, activated the secure video conference. The large screen in his underground lab flickered to life, displaying the faces of his subordinates. The leaders of Frost Industries. Each of them appeared in high-definition clarity, framed in front of sleek, modern offices, illuminated by glowing screens and futuristic tech. The setup was advanced, with holographic feeds, encrypted channels, and biometric verifications ensuring that no one outside this circle could breach the meeting.
Each leader was handpicked, their loyalty enforced by the iron grip Viktor held over them with his telepathic abilities. As the digital avatars of the executives stabilized on screen, all wearing impeccable suits and calm, calculating expressions, Viktor stepped into the frame, his eyes reflecting the ambient light with a cold, ethereal sheen.
"Gentlemen, ladies," Viktor began, his voice transmitted through the high-fidelity audio system. "I hope you understand the significance of today."
There was a pause, tension palpable even across the digital distance.
"We're not just a startup company anymore," Viktor continued, his tone laced with quiet power. "We'll be a force to be reckon. And now, with the introduction of our latest asset, we're unstoppable."
He gestured toward the side of the screen, where the logo of J.A.R.V.I.S. appeared a sleek digital design, its letters glowing faintly encircled with patterns and flashes of 1's and 0's.
"J.A.R.V.I.S. is our new Artificial Intelligence," Viktor announced, his blue cold eyes locking onto each face through the screen. "A system that will monitor and control every aspect of Frost Industries. From our financials to our security, every line of data will be observed and processed by a mind sharper and faster than any human. J.A.R.V.I.S. will ensure that no threats can touch us. Not competitors. Not governments. Not even the criminal elements of this city."
One of the executives, a stern-looking man in his early 40s, raised an eyebrow. "You're entrusting security to an AI? Are you certain…" although they are loyal and under mind control, they still act and move under their own personality, so not to hinder their brilliance and thinking capability, although he wants loyal subordinates, he didn't want them to be robotic puppets.
"More than certain," Viktor interrupted, leaning forward, his voice cutting through the holographic feed like a blade. "J.A.R.V.I.S. has already passed every test, far beyond expectations. It's integrated into all of our systems, our labs, our buildings, and even this very conference, his more than capable of handling this task. You can even test him as you like, we are secured."
As if to demonstrate, the feed briefly zoomed out, showing an intricate 3D rendering of Frost Industries' headquarters in New York and Gotham. Multiple layers of digital firewalls and encryption algorithms were visible, shifting dynamically as J.A.R.V.I.S. monitored and enhanced their defenses in real-time.
"I see," the man conceded, his voice filled with respect and just a hint of unease, unsure how an AI is even capable of doing something like this.
Viktor's smiled darkly. "With J.A.R.V.I.S., we'll expand our reach. We'll grow faster, smarter, and safer. No one will be able to touch us in the digital world." Until Cyborg arrives, but hopefully by that time he has something better.
"Impressive," another executive, a woman in her mid-30s, remarked, her image flickering slightly as she leaned closer to her own holographic display. "What's the next move?"
"The next move is simple," Viktor said, his icy gaze scanning the room. "Continue as planned, purchased companies that are going bankrupt that fits our future vision and take over them. With J.A.R.V.I.S. assisting us, we'll take over New York and Gotham's market. And from there, we expand globally. Frost Industries will be everywhere. I don't want questions, I want action. If you have any questions you can JARVIS."
The subordinates nodded, knowing better than to question Viktor's ambitions. His tone allowed no room for doubt.
"And one last thing," Viktor added, his smile widening into something far more sinister. "J.A.R.V.I.S. isn't just here to help with security. It will monitor those who work for me as well. If any of our employees think of disloyalty… we'll know."
The executives exchanged nervous glances, fully aware of what Viktor was capable of. He wasn't just their leader, he was their master, if any of their subordinates has any other thoughts they might be afflicted.
"Let's get to work," Viktor concluded, his image freezing in a gleaming pose of dominance before the feed abruptly cut, leaving the leaders to process his words in the cold glow of their own high-tech offices.
The room fell silent as J.A.R.V.I.S. officially took over, its presence now embedded in every corner of the growing Frost empire.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone