Marvel's Avengers: The Extinction Key, page 4
She chuckled, low in her throat. “I don’t blame you,” she said. “In general, the effects of gamma radiation are unpredictable, and the suite of mutations, if left to chance, are rarely beneficial. But using new gene-editing techniques, I think it’s possible to isolate specific mutations that might be beneficial.”
“That’s… interesting,” Bruce said.
“But?” Monica said, turning.
“But it’s still gamma radiation.”
“And who knows more about gamma radiation than you?”
“So this isn’t just about—my condition.”
“Bruce,” she said, taking his hand. “It is about that. But it’s about more. That amount of radiation you absorbed should have killed you, but instead it made you stronger. How long since you’ve been sick, with even so much as a cold?”
He considered. “Not since… then. I’ve thought about this, too.”
“And when you’re… him, your healing rate must be unbelievable.”
“Sure,” he said. “But… um… no offense, but you’re not the first person to think there might be some way to exploit the green guy. To make more of him, or use his blood to become immortal, or—”
“I don’t want to make more Hulks,” she said. “I want to make people healthier. Cure cancer. Counter toxic reactions. Without the… side effects. And repair damage or mutated tissue, if that’s what’s wanted. To reverse the effects. But I still have a long way to go. Your firsthand experience, your intimate knowledge of gamma rays, is invaluable to this project. Just let me show you some of what I’ve been doing. If you don’t approve, I’ll shut the whole thing down, I promise. I’ve got plenty of other irons in the fire.”
* * *
THE next few hours passed in the blink of an eye. He found he wasn’t becoming just interested in her work, but excited about it. She had sequenced the DNA of low-dose gamma-mutated cells, and had begun isolating the various traits coded in that genetic material. She seemed to think some of those traits could be used for gene therapy, without transferring the whole collection of gamma mutations to the recipient. If true, that could lead to a lot of things, all of them good. And from what he saw, she was onto something. Of course, there was only so much she could do with the low-dose cells she could create with the equipment she had. But down the road, with better equipment, he had no doubt she could accomplish miracles. There were possible pitfalls, to be sure, but—well, it seemed promising.
So absorbed was he by their discussion, he didn’t realize anyone else was in the lab until he heard a low cough.
“George,” Monica said, rising from the table at which they were sitting. “Come in. Bruce and I were just talking.”
“Doctor Banner,” Tarleton said. “So good to see you again. I hope your flight was okay?”
“It was fine,” Bruce replied. “How have you been?”
“Very well,” Tarleton said. “You can tell Mr. Stark the new equipment has been put to good use. I’ve made more progress in the last week than in the previous three months.”
“You can tell him yourself in a couple of days,” Bruce said. “He’s planning on dropping in.”
“Checking up on us?” George said. “Of course, it is his money. And of course, I value his opinion and expertise. Yours as well.”
“I appreciate that,” Bruce said. “He may not have shown it, but Tony really is blown away by your work.”
“Terrigen Crystals,” Tarleton said, sounding steadily more excited “That’s what I’ve settled on calling them. I’m convinced they’re going to revolutionize—well, everything. As a source of power, I believe they could rival anything we’ve discovered so far. And I believe their power can be transmitted without wires.”
“That’s great,” Bruce said.
Privately, he was a bit more reserved. Tarleton had been running an experiment designed to detect geomagnetic anomalies when he turned up strange energy readings in the San Francisco Bay. He had managed to pinpoint the readings and recovered a number of crystals from the depths of the Bay. He had realized he had something of potentially immense value, but didn’t have the capital to investigate them properly. That was why he’d sought out Tony. The two of them were working on processes to extract and use the energy stored—or perhaps generated— by the crystals.
And that was all well and good. But exciting new sources of power—from oil to nuclear fission—rarely came without some sort of cost. So far these “terrigen” crystals seemed too good to be true. Bruce was worried that they probably were. But at least, with Tony involved, security was tight. The existence of the crystals was known to only a handful of people, and just under half of them were now standing in Monica’s lab.
“If you would like to have a look now—” George began.
“Perhaps that can wait until morning?” Monica asked. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure with the flight and time change, Bruce must be exhausted.”
“Oh, yes—of course,” Tarleton said. “First thing in the morning, then?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Bruce said.
Tarleton nodded, then headed off toward his labs.
“So what now?” Bruce asked.
“I thought you’d like to get cleaned up for dinner.”
“That,” Bruce said, “sounds like an excellent idea.”
FOUR
STEVE Rogers watched as Maria Hill tapped on a keyboard and molecular diagrams appeared on the holographic cube in the middle of the conference table. He glanced over at Natasha. She rarely showed emotion without purpose—he had long ago decided never to play poker with her—but today he sensed a certain rawness in her demeanor as they followed what the SHIELD operative was saying.
“They killed him twice,” Hill said. “He was injected with a neurotoxin at five points in the neck.” The outline of a human bust appeared, with the five punctures marked as little red pins.
“His fingers,” Natasha said. “The attacker was holding him by the neck.”
Hill nodded. “The toxin is fast-acting, and lethal in far smaller doses than what he was exposed to. It would certainly have killed him, except he was essentially already dead.”
“How’s that?” Steve asked.
“His cellular structure had been disrupted,” Hill replied.
“Disrupted?”
“Each cell in his body had the moisture sucked out of it,” she said. “Violently, rupturing the cell membranes. He was murdered cell by cell.”
“What does that?” Steve asked.
“We don’t know,” Maria replied. “If you freeze-dried someone and then thawed them, you might get a similar result.”
“He wasn’t cold,” Natasha said. “In fact, his skin was hot to the touch. But I didn’t see any steam.”
“Forensics is still working on it,” Hill said. “Hopefully they’ll come up with some answers.”
“Hopefully,” Natasha said.
“This tablet,” Steve said. “Was it that valuable?”
Maria shrugged. “Valuable? I mean, it was weird. We didn’t think it was all that special. There are hundreds of artifacts around the world that SHIELD has flagged as exhibiting odd radiation or energy signatures. We can’t curate them all, and if we tried, it would just generate unwelcome interest. We hold onto the ones that seem to represent clear and present danger. The rest we keep tabs on.
“That tablet has been squirreled away in a special collection since 1921,” she continued. “The archaeologist who found it concluded it was probably a fake, and said so in the only published article that refers to it. When it was stolen last week, it set off a low-level alert. We contacted Romanoff.” She pulled up a diagram of the building.
“We had a team waiting downstairs,” Hill said. “For all the good it did us. Whoever launched the assault teleported in and out. No enhanced individuals were involved until that moment. None of us was expecting that kind of force to be brought to bear on what we thought was likely a simple antiquity theft. The deceased trafficked primarily in high-end artifacts. He had no previous affiliations with any of the organizations on our radar.”
“I think he may have done business with Wilson Fisk in the past,” Natasha said.
“We didn’t know about that.”
“What about this Capricorn?” Steve asked.
“I checked some of my sources,” Natasha said. “He’s a shadow who works with other shadows, supposedly part of an organization so secret both the KGB and CIA concluded it never existed, or ceased to exist a hundred years ago.”
“Utter secrecy,” Steve said, “and yet they killed someone in a very visible way.”
“Maybe,” Hill replied. “Or maybe it’s all a smoke screen for something else—a distraction from another operation. We’ve got our feelers out. If there are shadows out there, something is casting them.”
“What’s our next move?” Steve asked.
“We know that Capricorn is in Taiwan,” Natasha said. “Or was, anyway. I’d like to start there. See if I can track him—or her—down.”
“We’ve got people on that,” Hill said. “Less… conspicuous people. When we think this is an Avengers-level matter, we’ll let you know.”
Natasha frowned slightly, but then nodded. “Makes sense,” she said. “But if you find anything out, I’d appreciate it if you let me know.”
Hill nodded. “Of course,” she said.
FIVE
“SIR?”
“What is it, JARVIS?” Tony Stark asked absently. He was in the middle of reconfiguring the life-support systems of the Iron Man suit. The cooling unit had dropped to twenty percent in the last fight, which could have been deadly. The suit generated a lot of heat; shedding the excess was absolutely essential if it was to operate for extended periods. The next time he had to put the thing on, he didn’t want to come out like a lobster entrée.
“Something is approaching Stark Tower,” the computer said. “It is moving at supersonic speed.”
“Interesting,” Tony said. “Do you have a profile?”
“The object matches no known missile or aircraft configuration.”
“How big is it?”
“It’s small, just two meters in length but quite dense. It will reach us in eighty-three seconds.”
Tony didn’t look up, but continued soldering.
“Power source?”
“Of alien origin,” JARVIS replied. “I am preparing countermeasures, sir.”
“Excellent,” Tony said. “What do you think it is? A flying saucer?”
“No, sir. It is roughly cylindrical in shape and seems to be mostly organic in nature. Locking on target.” There was a pause. “Update—it is beginning to decelerate. Sir, I believe it may be a person.”
“Is it Thor?” Tony asked.
“Analyzing,” JARVIS said. Then, “Yes, sir. It is, in fact, Thor.” JARVIS was a computer, and shouldn’t sound embarrassed, but Tony nevertheless thought he heard a touch of mortification.
“It was a natural mistake, JARVIS,” he said.
“The error was in my programming,” JARVIS replied. “I’ve now corrected your error.”
“Good for you. When he gets here, invite him in.”
“Happily, sir.”
* * *
THOR always entered the room as if he expected fanfare—literal fanfare. The blowing of trumpets and tubas and alphorns or whatever the band played in Asgard. When Tony offered him a seat, he settled into it and made it look as if it was a throne, even though the chair was too small to pull it off.
“You really ought to use that transponder I gave you,” Tony said. “JARVIS was on the verge of shooting you down.”
“Ah,” Thor replied. “My apologies. The device was destroyed in combat.”
“So you found someone to fight on your cosmic walkabout,” Tony said. “Anything I should know about?”
“A conflict far from here, of concern to my father—but not, I think, to Earth.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Tony said. “SHIELD reported an uptick in extra-solar presences in our system. Nothing overtly threatening, but it’s got them on edge. They’ve been calling in whatever sources they can, so they’ll probably welcome your report, even if it doesn’t directly concern them. I’ve been trying to help them track Captain Marvel, but so far without any luck. She—”
“Oh, her,” Thor said. “Our paths crossed. She’s battling off-planet, as well. That may continue for some time.”
“Any details you can offer?”
“She didn’t provide any information,” he said. “I didn’t ask.” He shifted in his chair. “She asked a favor of me, though.”
“What was that?”
“To return here,” Thor said. “To protect the Earth. In her travels the Captain encountered... many things. Dangerous things. She wanted to make certain her home planet was as well defended as possible.” His hand strayed absently to the grip of Mjolnir. “I agreed, out of respect for her warrior’s intuition,” he added.
“That’s why you’re back?”
Thor shrugged his massive shoulders. “In truth, she only asked that I indulge my heart’s desire. I have been torn, Stark, since my brother’s crimes brought us all together. My duty as a son of Asgard is to my home, and to my father, her king, yet my heart lies here, on this planet, with these mortals. That bond was forged centuries ago, but in my arrogance I grew contemptuous of this place. Only later, when I was humbled, did my heart open again.”
Tony noted Thor’s earnest expression.
“So, let me see if I’m reading you right,” he said. “You’re saying you’re back.”
“Verily.”
“Great,” Tony said. “We can always use you—and the press loves you, which doesn’t hurt. There are some folks out there who really don’t like the Avengers.”
“Who says this?” Thor said, his voice becoming louder. “Have we not battled for humanity?”
“Sure, we’ve done that,” Tony said, “but here’s the thing. These cosmic beings with powers beyond what most mortals can imagine—these threats that endanger our very existence, this is all new to most people. It makes life… uncertain. Then they see us. A guy in a metal suit, a Viking space god, a reformed assassin, a big green monster—”
“But—Captain America. Surely they trust him.”
“Yes,” Tony said. “Steve’s in the plus column. But my point is, we’re also part of this new, scary thing. People wonder, what if we turn on them? What if we decide we know what’s best for humanity, and decide to impose our will on the world?”
“That is not the way of the Avengers,” Thor said.
“You know that,” Tony said, “and I know that, but people are suspicious—and not entirely without reason. They’ve been betrayed in the past by leaders they trusted, by corporations that claimed to have their best interests at heart, by the very technologies intended to make their lives better.”
“Yet not by us,” Thor insisted, leaning forward and causing the chair to creak. “Captain America would never—”
“Sure. Everybody’s fine with Cap. He has a track record. He was vetted by their grandfathers and great-grandfathers. He’s not a monster created by radiation, or an alien from another world—”
“I thought you said this ‘press’ liked me.”
“You have good looks and charm,” Tony said, “and you come off as honest and unironic. You take a hell of a good picture. So right now, you’re good.”
“I strive to be.” Thor sat back again.
“Right, that’s for the best,” Tony said. “Look, I’m glad to have you back. Why don’t I call in the rest of the team, and you can brief us on your adventures out yonder? You may be right, it may have nothing to do with us, but more knowledge is always better than less.”
“Except when it involves the mating habits of Asgardian sewer lizards,” Thor said. “That’s best left unknown—and definitely unseen. Properly they’re from the Realm Below but some were brought as pets to Asgard, and—”
“Good point,” Tony said quickly. “Maybe not that. But in general…”
* * *
BRUCE was used to waking up wondering where he was, how he had gotten there, and what sort of damage he had done in the preceding hours or days. So it wasn’t without a little panic that he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. A small room, plain except for a bookcase and an end table with a clock and his phone. A strange bed…
Well, a bed was a good start. The Hulk didn’t usually seek out a mattress on which to pass out, and nothing looked broken. Also, he wore a t-shirt and shorts, neither shredded nor stretched out. All good signs.
Then it came back to him. Dinner with Monica—oysters, salmon, crème anglaise. A pleasant walk in the night air, good conversation. Eventually bed, and a deep, guilt-free sleep.
Someone moved around in the apartment; it was probably what had wakened him. He rose, tugged on his pants, and exited the room.
The apartment was tight: the small bedroom, a toilet and shower, a galley kitchen that opened onto a modest living room with a view of a building with green-tinted windows reflecting the morning sun. Monica was already up and dressed, sitting at the kitchen table and staring at her phone. She glanced up and put it down as he entered.
“Oh, good,” she said. “You’re up. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to wake you.”
“Did I oversleep?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “We have time, if you want to shower and such. I thought we would get breakfast on the way.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ll be a minute.”
* * *
BREAKFAST was pastries and coffee, of course, in a little hole-in-the wall run by a blue-eyed woman who chatted with Monica in Italian. They sat outside at a small round metal-mesh table. People and cars appeared and vanished like ghosts in the morning fog, so that it felt like only the two of them were real.
He smiled as he bit into his croissant, thinking of another time, another morning meal.
“You’re remembering that time I served you cookies for breakfast, back in New Mexico,” she said.
He paused with the pastry halfway to his mouth.
