"So, what do you propose?" Blade asked as soon as we pulled onto the avenue. His voice was even and emotionless, but I saw how intently he peered at the rushing cityscape.
I threw quick glance in rearview mirror, making sure Gwen, pressed into back seat, was also all attention. Her fingers nervously fidgeted with edge of mask lying on her knees. Here and now, there was no point in hiding.
"Plan consists of two stages, but in short: we smoke Fisk out of his hole, and you take him out with sniper rifle," I began, watching Blade maneuver into left lane. "Breaking into Empire State Building, that damn symbol of New York, is suicide. We risk not just attracting cops' attention, but getting all federal services on our tail plus terrorist label. We do not need that."
"Sounds reasonable," Blade nodded, his eyes flashing momentarily in cabin's semi-darkness. "Frontal assault is not option. Solo sabotage also will not work. It is not quite my profile, and our heroine," he barely noticeably nodded toward Gwen, "does not have guts for such mess."
"And nothing is lacking!" indignant voice immediately sounded from behind. "I... I can handle it! I am ready... I can neutralize someone like Fisk!"
"No," I shook my head, trying to make my voice sound firm but not too harsh. "It is not about courage, Gwen. It is about experience. You definitely should not charge at Fisk in his fortress. Obviously, he is guarded by meta-humans, and he himself is far from as simple as he seems. You already took serious hit from Shocker, and he compared to Kingpin is street trash. In short, sorry, but for operation of this level you still have too little practice."
At this comment she fell silent. In mirror I saw her turn away to window, and her shoulders drooped.
"Okay, we settled that," Blade returned conversation to proper track. "And how exactly are we going to lure this bastard out? That is main difficulty. He can lock himself in his office for week."
"That is why we need two stages," I answered, mentally reviewing blueprints in head. "We go to my garage. Within hour, maybe hour and half, I will assemble couple gadgets for our show." I shifted gaze to Gwen. "And we need you for most important part. You will be our eyes. Please, watch Empire State, make sure Kingpin does not escape anywhere. If you spot his motorcade or helicopter, immediately follow him, but discreetly. And keep us informed. Your task is not to let him leave before we are ready."
After discussing couple more details, we dropped Gwen off at nearest high-rise, from where it was more convenient for her to reach downtown. Watching her go, Blade pressed pedal to floor, and we raced toward Bay Ridge, to house and garage that in this short time had already become somewhat home to me.
"Well then, genius, now can you reveal your cards?" Blade asked as soon as garage gates clanged shut behind us. He crossed arms on chest, leaning against workbench.
After carefully thinking everything through once more and internally nodding to my "brilliant" and hopefully not too overcomplicated plan, I began.
"First, which is also key stage, completely cut power to Empire State. Remotely. For this I will now assemble powerful, narrowly directed EMP gun. You will have to shoot. Twice."
"Poor is that hunter who shoots twice," Blade smirked.
"And good is one who with one shot kills two rabbits. We have here, basically, whole zoo. First target is antenna complex on very top of tower. This is not just antenna, this is most powerful communications hub that broadcasts signals for good half of city. You will need to hit right at base of mast. One precise pulse, and Fisk is instantly cut off from outside world. No satellite, cellular or radio communication. Complete information asphyxiation. He will be under blockade. Second target is technical floor. Gun's pulse will be wider, you will aim at one of floors in range from eighty-seventh to hundred-first. Will be enough to hit conditional ninety-third. There are concentrated main distribution panels, server rooms and, most importantly, backup power systems. Strike on this nerve center will cause cascading failure and de-energize entire building from inside."
"Hmm, sounds nice," Blade thoughtfully rubbed chin. "But do you not think that such paranoid as Fisk will simply sit tight under guard? Does not care that without light. In next half hour his techs will fix everything. And about complete communications blockade you are possibly too optimistic. He surely has some protected landlines. He will just barricade himself and wait."
"Yes, that is exactly why second stage exists," I with mental effort materialized Shocker's glove from inventory and with dull thud placed it on workbench. "Scare Fisk shitless!"
Blade raised eyebrow in bewilderment.
"With this glove?"
"With vibrations! We will create illusion of structural threat to building, but without causing it real harm. For this I will calibrate this glove. Instead of short powerful pulses it will generate constant low-amplitude infrasonic vibration, around fifteen to twenty hertz. Our Spider-Girl will place this thing in basement complex. And entire building will fill with growing, maddening panic hum. Hum from which you cannot hide behind backs of dozen guards. This will be effect on subconscious, on primal fear."
"Do vibrations work that way?" skepticism in his voice decreased, but distrust still remained. "I thought concrete dampens such things perfectly."
"True, simple vibration sent through concrete will die out after couple meters, you cannot fool physics," I smiled predatorily. "But we will affect not concrete box, but building's skeleton itself. Its steel framework! Skyscraper is complex metal structure wrapped in concrete and glass. And steel is perfect conductor for vibrations. All Gwen needs to do is find one of central load-bearing columns of framework, chip off some concrete or fireproofing, and attach activated glove. From this moment entire tower will become one giant tuning fork humming at infrasonic frequency!"
Blade was silent for several seconds, processing information. Then wide, almost insane grin spread across his face.
"Holy shit... Standing ovation to your engineering genius!" he slapped me on shoulder so hard I barely stayed on feet. "And so while entire tower is de-energized, cut off from world and vibrating like Japanese sex toy, Fisk will have to evacuate urgently. But elevators do not work... Will such big guy like him even manage so many flights of stairs?"
"That is exactly it, he will not manage. And he knows it," I winked. "Someone like Fisk, with his paranoia and resources, would definitely have provided for such scenario. Hundred percent he has personal elevator powered by autonomous, isolated system. And I would not be surprised if its control cable is armored fiber optic that does not care about any EMP. This elevator will be his only path to salvation. And our window of opportunity."
"Got it. Plan is awesome, like your watch!" Blade nodded, his gaze becoming hard and focused. "Little overcomplicated, of course, but alternative is becoming persona non grata in all States. So go ahead, conjure. Use your crafting magic or whatever you call it. Clock is ticking."
Nodding, I set to work. Brain, turned into ultra-precise quantum computer, already broke down entire process into thousands of parallel tasks, and hands began moving before I could give them conscious command. Blade silently moved vise aside and cleared workbench, becoming silent assistant in my insane act of creation.
First thing, frame and body. Here everything is simple. Snatching from pile of junk dumped in corner small but sturdy frame from old server rack, skeleton of long-deceased IT dinosaur, I made angle grinder squeal. Couple precise cuts, several clicks of rivet gun, and output was crude, angular base resembling skeleton of futuristic rifle from darkest cyberpunk dreams. Yes, this would not look pretty. This would be ugly but deadly bastard of engineering thought.
Power source would naturally be Palladium reactor. Only it could deliver pulse of monstrous power we needed. Disconnecting it from plasma barrier system, I with dull, pleasant click inserted it into specially prepared socket in place of stock, connecting cold-to-touch cables to main converter. Reactor responded with even, barely audible hum. Monster's heart began beating.
Now accumulators. Main thing in EMP is instantaneous, almost unthinkable release of huge energy. I took ten most powerful high-voltage capacitors that were previously part of my Marx generator and began most painstaking part of work, soldering. Acrid smell of rosin hit nose. Spark, hiss of solder that spread over contacts like liquid silver. My fingers worked with inhuman speed and precision, and in ten minutes before me lay battery capable of lighting up lights of small city block for one short moment, and in next, extinguishing them forever.
Next, emitter. Five magnetrons, ruthlessly ripped from microwaves, I mounted on titanium plate in honeycomb pattern. But main magic was elsewhere. Most complex part was phasing circuit. On breadboard I assembled complex chain of timers and high-speed thyristors. This plain board was brain and conductor. It would make magnetrons fire not in chaotic chorus but coordinated orchestra, with calibrated delay in nanoseconds. My brain already calculated needed intervals to create perfect cone of constructive interference. I installed entire structure in center of parabolic reflector from old satellite dish, giving it appearance of deadly flower. I naturally did not think about any modularity or elegance. Only thing was Palladium Reactor, as most valuable, easily detached.
Finally I simply connected it all together. Reactor powers capacitors, those with deafening, growing whine charge in couple seconds, and then all accumulated might at my signal goes to phasing circuit, which releases it to magnetrons. EMP gun, looking like garbage weapon from post-apocalyptic film, was ready. Main thing, it worked, and system confirmed it!
[Created simple electro-mechanical construct "EMP Gun." Complexity: Low. Received +100 OP!]
Device creating powerful directed EMP interference.
"Looks like crap," Blade honestly admitted, walking around my creation. "Will it at least not explode in my hands?"
"But effective. In conditions of limited time, assembling something better is difficult," I answered, shrugging and tossing gun into inventory. "And about explosion... Just aim in right direction. Now I will calibrate glove, and let us go."
Here everything was order of magnitude simpler. Not creating something from scratch, but rather "surgical intervention." Carefully opening glove body with diamond cutter, I discovered inside intricate weave of microscopic wire veins, nerve clusters of boards and miniature capacitors. Brain instantly analyzed circuit. My goal was bypass combat system. There it is, main power cable going to combat energy accumulators. Click of wire cutters. Done, as weapon glove is dead. Now can proceed to modification. I soldered into circuit going from internal battery to vibration emitters my assembled on knee step-down modulator. Simple circuit with potentiometer for power regulation and frequency generator chip.
Turning on glove, I made sure there was no usual loud hum. But workbench under it began trembling finely, and barely perceptible vibration went through floor. Taking out smartphone and downloading first available spectrum analyzer app, I brought it closer. Clear peak appeared on screen.
"What the..." Blade frowned, slightly shaking head, as if trying to get rid of unpleasant sensation in ears.
I silently turned screwdriver on trimmer resistor on my board. Peak on screen crawled left and stopped at mark of 18.5 Hz. Perfect infrasound. In garage it instantly became uncomfortable. Air seemed to thicken, slight nausea and oppressive feeling of inexplicable anxiety appeared. Tuning complete.
Final touch, I screwed to back side of glove several powerful neodymium magnets ripped from old hard drives. Added simple timer with self-destruct mechanism, small charge of plastid, enough to turn circuit into melted slag. Brought simple activation toggle switch outside. Now Gwen could reliably magnetize glove to steel beam, and after half hour it would simply pop softly, destroying to hell all possible evidence.
"Done!" I exhaled, leaning back in chair.
Two unique devices, assembled in hour and change. Never would have thought I was capable of such thing. Or no, when pressed, internal reserves activate, and I literally on ass thrust prove to myself that all limitations are only in head.
"Let us go," Blade nodded shortly.
Settling in his black Charger, we again flew onto streets and rushed toward Manhattan. There was not single signal from Gwen, which meant our target was still inside his tower of steel and glass.
Roof of "230 Fifth Avenue" building at such late hour was empty. Fashionable rooftop bar had long closed, and only wind drove napkins and leaves across huge open terrace. This place became our meeting point. Gwen was already waiting for us, small figure in her suit against background of giant, cloud-piercing spire of Empire State Building.
I silently handed her modified glove.
"Magnets are powerful, will stick to bare steel permanently. Look for load-bearing column in basement or on technical floor, as deep as possible. Flip toggle and leave. Do not play hero. Remember, you are ghost. Entered, did job, left. You have five minutes for everything."
She nodded decisively, in her eyes under mask was mixture of nervousness and steel determination. Taking glove, she without unnecessary words darted to roof edge and, gracefully vaulting over parapet, disappeared into night. Blade and I remained alone under cold Manhattan sky. Five minutes started.
Our observation post on building roof, located approximately 350-400 meters from Empire State, was ideal. From here opened direct, unobstructed visibility to skyscraper's southern facade, which now represented black, cloud-piercing spire. Shooting angle was comfortable enough to hit both technical floors and antenna complex crowning tower. Night was our ally.
After briefly instructing Blade on using EMP gun, I pointed finger at two key points on building's dark silhouette. In this regard I trusted his superhuman accuracy more than any targeting system. Finishing, I stepped back couple meters, giving him space. My phone vibrated shortly. Gwen was already in position and waiting for signal, waiting for power to go out so she could install her "gift."
Blade flipped toggle on EMP gun body to charging mode. Gun body responded with high electronic hum, similar to sound of charging old photo flash, only thousand times more powerful and piercing. This sound seemed to make air itself vibrate. Blade stood motionless, like granite statue, holding ugly weapon as if it were extension of his hands. After three agonizingly long seconds, simple light indicator changed color from alarming red to confident green. Shot. He pressed large button protected by guard on handle. All energy accumulated in capacitor battery instantly discharged to phasing grid of magnetrons.
For me, as outside observer, it looked surreal. At moment of shot, air around gun barrel for fraction of second ionized, creating short, absolutely silent flash of pale violet glow, similar to light from short circuit or weak aurora borealis. Immediately after flash, wave-like distortion passed toward tower, like haze over heated asphalt. This was visible front of EMP wave propagation. No cinematic electric spheres or flying lightning bolts. Just quiet flash, slight spatial distortion, and in second... First shot hit spire precisely.
Another three seconds of charging. Again piercing whine and green flash of indicator. Second shot, aimed lower. And then effect became truly tangible. Empire State Building, one of world civilization's symbols, blinked and went out. As if someone turned off giant switch. Against background of glowing city landscape appeared black hole, void that swallowed entire skyscraper.
"So, we have about two to three minutes," I said shortly, handing Blade my Remington 700 sniper rifle. He silently accepted it, and I hid cooling EMP gun in inventory.
Calculations in my head raced at simulation speed. Fisk's penthouse is on 80-85 floors, approximately 320-330 meters from ground. Speed of his personal, protected elevator is about 6-7 meters per second. Pure descent time will take about 50 seconds. Add distribution of vibration through steel framework, growing panic, guard commotion, time to elevator and from it to exit. Everything converged. From South service exit Fisk should appear very soon.
About minute and half later, Gwen's figure landed on roof next to us absolutely silently. She said nothing, just stared at Blade, who was already lying on roof edge, pressed into optical scope. Remington has effective firing range up to 1000 meters. From ballistics standpoint, rifle had more than twofold margin in power and accuracy, since distance to target was only 380-400 meters. But main problem was not distance. Main problem was wind.
New York is "urban canyon." Wind, hitting skyscraper facades, creates most complex, treacherous eddies, ascending and descending currents. Invisible rivers of air. Bullet, flying these 400 meters, could cross several such zones where wind blows in different directions with different strength. Even for shooter of Blade's level, who thanks to his superhuman senses could literally feel these currents with skin, making precise correction was task on edge of art and luck. But I believed in him.
Waiting stretched nerves. And then, two minutes after lights went out, black armored SUV pulled up to service exit. Another thirty seconds later, service doors swung open, and from there first several bodyguards spilled out, quickly looking around. Another five seconds passed, and surrounded by tight ring of security, Fisk's bulky, massive figure appeared in doorway.
World seemed to narrow to picture in scope. Deep, calm exhale from Blade. Smooth pressure on trigger.
Sharp, dry crack of shot tore night silence. Moment later, barely audible dull slap reached us. Bullet easily pierced skull, and huge figure of one of city's most dangerous bastards, far from immortal as it turned out, collapsed onto asphalt like sack of bones. Clean, perfect, inevitable shot.
"Pack up!" I threw out.
Blade silently rose, returned rifle to me, which I immediately hid in inventory, and without hesitation simply stepped off roof edge, disappearing into darkness. I caught Gwen by waist, she released webbing, and we flew down, feeling wild gust of wind and dizzying flight. Couple minutes later we were already racing in Blade's Charger through New York streets, away from extinguished giant, dissolving into endless stream of lights.
"Awesome. Brother is avenged!" was first thing Blade said when garage gates clanged shut behind us. He slammed palm on dusty workbench with force, raising cloud of steel shavings into air. Tension of night finally released, replaced by grim satisfaction. "True, obviously, they will not leave me alone after such shit. After all, I killed Wilson Fisk first, not Kingpin. One bastard less, but for system I am murderer of public figure. So need to get out."
"Get out where?" I asked in confusion. I somehow did not consider this option. This is... well, this is Blade. Superhuman practically from top league. Seemed he had nothing to fear.
"Does not matter where, main thing is out of country," he shrugged, but there was not drop of indifference in his eyes. "I, unlike you, showed my face. They know me. And now coming after me will not be bandits, but people in strict suits with federal badges. So as soon as you heal Frank, I will have heart-to-heart with him, and goodbye, America."
"Sad, of course," I exhaled. Realization hit gut: now could not count on Blade's help, support and connections in New York. We lost our main power asset.
"Do not worry, kid," he pushed me on shoulder in friendly way. "Even being outside US, I will help with what I can. You are now like brother to me, understand? So reach out on any issue, you have my contacts." He shifted gaze to Gwen who had been silent until now. "And you, Spider-Girl, do not drift either. Partially recorded as one of mine too. Glad you did not lecture me about how 'we should not stoop to their level' and other blah-blah-blah."
"He... deserved it," Gwen reluctantly but firmly admitted, looking at floor. This was huge admission for her, and we both understood it.
"By the way, about help," I immediately seized opportunity, addressing Blade. "I need new place for work. Large space hidden from prying eyes that I can use as full-fledged base. Garage became too small and inconvenient for my projects."
Blade grinned.
"You are quick. Can use my base in New York. It is underground complex, big enough for your toys. Will send address, will add you to security system. My home is your home. Inside lots of cool stuff: armory, gym... Will appreciate it, in short!"
"Whoa... Thanks!" I thanked sincerely. This was royal gift.
"Thank you. Right... well, and non-... should stick together," he winked. "Okay, I am off. Write when you create healing potion. I will infiltrate hospital myself and give Frank drink."
"Okay," I nodded.
We exchanged firm handshake, and he left. Only Gwen and I remained in garage. She slowly pulled off mask, revealing tired, pale but still pretty face with traces of dirt on cheek.
"Thank you..." she said quietly. "That you helped avenge father. And... that you helped look at my methods differently. After all... Yes. Some problems really need radical solutions. In short, I do not even know how to thank you..."
"Best thanks will be if you return to Connors' lab and bring Peter back to me," I answered with soft smile, pleased that this night brought so many fruits. "Well and... become part of our team!"
She raised eyebrows in surprise. "Team?"
"Yeah," I nodded, understanding this night brought too many dividends to stop at achieved. "Not heroes in shining tights, but not villains either. Just people who want to change this world for better but do not quite yet imagine how. You saw what I am capable of. Peter is capable of no less, and in some aspects even more! With support of such strong meta as you, any problem will be within our reach. And, as Blade said, right... need to stick together. What do you think?"
"This... is really unexpected. And pleasant," she bit lip, considering my words. "I... I will think. Preliminarily, I am more likely to agree than not. Just... so much has piled up. Need to digest all this."
"I am not rushing. You can give your answer at any time convenient for you."
Throwing grateful look at me and pulling mask back on, Gwen as quietly as she appeared on roof, left my garage. Well, here I am alone.
Finally this crazy night ended. Crazy and incredibly profitable. Truly, greater the risks, higher the reward. What next? Thoughts, no longer spurred by NZT action, flowed slower, but plan was clear. Creating potions of Ash and Dawn, healing Uncle Ben and Frank. Hardcore crafting and studying technologies obtained from Fisk, possibly already in new, spacious laboratory. Farming OP and becoming stronger.
I am very, very, very weak. And tonight clearly showed that. My brains, my gadgets... all would be useless if Blade had missed. And hell with fact this night was his initiative, I agreed to participate myself. If not for him, I would hardly have survived this mess.
Night arc with Fisk ended. NZT action had long worn off, leaving after it echoing fatigue in head. On cameras I seemingly did not show face anywhere, relations with Gwen reached new level. Can sleep now. Morning will be busy: Lucas should just deliver all necessary ingredients for healing potion. Time to rest.