Chapitre 9: Part 9
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***
Waking up, like all the other times before it, was pretty damn pleasant. No hangover, no headache, and my mind was crystal clear. It was so cool to regulate my body and control every cell. After a quick full analysis and noting that the condition of the host's body was normal and that all the overnight improvements had been successful, I began to climb out of the warm blanket that was so reluctant to let me go. Or was it all just my reluctance to go to the boring vapours?
Chasing away unnecessary thoughts, I habitually headed for the shower. Drinking a strong coffee afterwards, I was focused and full of energy again. So what would fate have in store for us today? Hopefully, no vampires or crazy punishers. I'd rather have nice weather, that's what I'm looking forward to.
I decided to take the bus this time, and there was still plenty of time, so I settled down by the window, listening to pleasant music. The slipping landscapes changed one after another, but soon I saw something different. A huge lorry of the familiar Tonar brand had crashed into a man at full speed. But that was not what surprised me. The truck, like a baseball thrown by someone, was flying through the air, not hurtling along the earth.
The 'man' did not seem at all embarrassed by the multi-ton truck that had hit him, and he rose quickly, as if nothing had happened, lit a cheap cigar and continued walking, throwing off his tattered shirt, which was more suitable for a lumberjack or a Canadian than for a metropolitan.
Sincerely puzzled as to what was going on here, I continued to listen to the music. No one on the bus seemed to give a damn about such trivialities. New York, that's just the way it is. After just a couple of minutes, I got messages from a redheaded lady.
'Hey, handsome. 'How about we go to the cinema tonight or go for a walk in Central Park?'
Now, what did she want? Humming thoughtfully, I didn't open the message and show the girl that I'd read it. There was no desire to waste such a beautiful and at the same time equally wild morning on a walk or a cinema. The evening, on the other hand, is something to think about, so I'll take my time.
As I reveled in the Irish folk in Russian, I still enjoyed the scenery outside the window. Music always relaxed me and gave me a sense of calm. But I hadn't forgotten about the incident on the road and was already thinking about where I could get gene material for further improvement, and was already thinking about creating my own laboratory. Preferably somewhere in an abandoned underground and as far away from prying eyes as possible. After all, everyone for some reason make them in such closed places, and how am I worse than an ordinary villain? Even if my research will be directed purely at improving my body, why not do something for all mankind?
As an offshoot, it wouldn't be a bad thing for my projects. I wonder if that 'human' is tough, resilient, or can regenerate quite well. It could be both, of course, and even something else that I just don't know about, but the hell of it. I'm more curious about who threw that truck at him. Telekinesis? Or maybe just sheer force. What kind of a world is it that has monsters roaming the streets of major cities?
This is obviously not a very healthy thing. It's not supposed to be like that, or maybe I'm just out of touch with the world. What have I ever seen in my world? That's just it. So I'll have to figure out how I can survive in this crazy world and not be reborn before my time.
After reaching the temple of knowledge without any new incidents, I plunged into the routine of studying. There were classes in the right subjects, but nothing as interesting as Connors' lecture. When I was done with my studies, I stopped by to visit Harry, who was tinkering in his father's workshop.
- Still, I don't understand your attraction to this iron, and especially to fixing it. - I smiled at my old friend and continued. - If you tell anyone that you personally rebuild cars, nobody would believe you, and do you know why? The son of a tycoon should not be engaged in such rough work as repairing cars, even for his own pleasure. Why didn't you come to class today? - After I finished my denunciation, I handed Harry a clean rag to wipe the machine oil off his hands.
- You're always grumpy, Pete. - The guy nodded, and we finally said hello. - Once again I'm telling you that I just love going through the fleet, because you know every detail of the car, and you can rely on your iron companion. Back in my childhood, when my father did not have today's assets and a multinational corporation at his disposal, we often stayed with him in the garage until late at night, and then my mother came to us and dragged me away from the old Ford Corsair. - Harry smiled warmly at the nostalgia that came over him and sank into the pleasant memories.
- I love all this iron, so I'll take it as a memento. By the way, do you want to see something? - My mate winked at me and pulled out an ordinary remote control from his pocket and clicked something on it.
A second, and the old Fiat together with the latest model Audi went up on some kind of platform, giving us a view of a solid descent to nowhere. With an inviting wave of his hand, the guy disappeared into the darkness of the underground levels. Following my mate, I was surprised to recognise a variety of equipment and machines for working with machinery. Clapping a couple of times in the palm of his hand he switched on the light, which immediately flooded the room.
The mass of various tools, equipment and machines still attracted the eye, but there was something else. Various armoured vehicles stood lonely on the parking places, there were tanks of all kinds of modifications and solid-looking armoured cars from different countries. Apparently, the underground level ran through the entire Ozborn mansion, but why had he decided to show it to me just now?
Moving my gaze further, I saw a mannequin dressed in combat gear, firearms and edged weapons also very organically arranged on the stands. And most importantly, there was a workshop, right in the centre of all this chaos. It was a vigilante's lair, not the estate of an industrialist. What was Harry doing here, I wondered? Certainly not fixing up an old Ford or anything.
- As you can see, this is my father's main workshop. He used to be here for weeks at a time, but now it's different and you can leave the boring bits to the staff. I found this place by accident when I was going through the Barracuda. And you never had a reason to brag about it, and you didn't visit much, so I didn't have time for that. But you saved me, and now I'm in your debt, so I can't keep it a secret any longer. You can use the workshop, but don't blow anything up, because I know you. - Osborn smiled warmly.
- And yes, look what else I found. - Walking a little further into the workshop, Harry soon returned, but with some sort of helmet in his hands. - Tony Stark wears something similar, don't you think? - His mate asked innocently.
It was definitely part of Iron Man's armour, but where had it come from? And was the workshop so abandoned? Norman Osborne still seemed to be taking work home, but Harry needn't know that.
- Indeed. Tony must have been inspired by something like that. - I'm trying to change the subject.
- There's a lot of stuff in here. I may love cars, but what self-respecting man would turn down a gun? This is America. - Harry smiled again.
- I'm very flattered that you've decided to tell me this secret, and I'll certainly take advantage of your invitation. Now let's go and see that Ford LTD. I guess your love of this scrap metal is contagious after all. - The old friend smiled at my joke and the usual grumbling.
Quickly going up to the garage, we were already together to examine the long-standing Ford. Having carried out a small maintenance and replaced everything we needed, we drove around the city for a while, catching interested glances from ladies and retro connoisseurs. It's not often to see a 1972 Ford Ltd Lowrider on the streets of New York. After a little chatting on selected topics and asking the butler for a cup of tea, I was going home.
There was the usual crowd and noise on the tube, but I was once again saved by music and noise cancelling headphones. It was great not to hear all this annoying background, but the main thing here was not to doze off, or you might miss your stop. However, the noise of the first carriages pulling away from me did not let me doze off. This time it was even stranger, and the corroded carriages were somehow hovering above the ground.
I wondered who they were trying to kill this time. I have almost no doubts about these unknown people, and it can't happen twice in the same day. A minute's pause was broken by the sound of melting metal and the fall of the same first wagons. A group of strangely dressed people swept by behind an equally odiously dressed man. Looks like I definitely need to get stronger. Is there magic here? I don't know what to expect with such comrades.
Since our transport was now malfunctioning, I had to get off at the nearest station. Once I got to the surface, I finally breathed a full breath, and a message in my pocket.
'So how about tonight?'
'Are you ignoring me?'
'Well Peter, be a good boy like you used to be and take a girl to the cinema!'
'Well, fuck you...'
'Peter, final offer, where are we going out?'
Tired of reading the web of messages, I wrote a terse 'OK' and added a time and place. After all, if you think about it, what have I got to lose? I almost died on the underground the other day, so I definitely need to unwind. And it's lucky I rarely get the first carriage, or I'd be flattened or fried. There's no telling which is better. And a snack would be nice.
With a measured step I reached a café a couple of kilometres from the underground station, ordered some green tea and waited for the girl who suddenly wanted to go for a walk. Mary Jane appeared quite quickly, and I had just finished my tea. Leaving a tip, I went to meet her.
A light evening dress in milky colours perfectly matched with black shoes on high stiletto heels, the girl's eyes were burning with the fire of gambling curiosity. I wondered what Carrot-top had in mind. Trying to solve the riddle of Mary Jane's name, I came even closer and gallantly kissed the girl's hand.
- How quickly you've missed me, beastie. - Smiling evasively, I received nothing but flushed cheeks in return.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone