Over New York, the dark clouds that had dominated the sky for days still lingered, heavy and gray like wet wool pressing down upon the city. But the relentless snowstorm that had battered the metropolis for so long had finally exhausted itself and stopped.
As traffic resumed its usual chaotic rhythm, as horns blared and engines rumbled, the vital signs of the city seemed to be gradually returning to normal. Life reasserted itself with stubborn persistence, refusing to be beaten down by mere weather.
In the streets and alleys throughout the five boroughs, New York police officers wearing heavy winter uniforms that made their already substantial frames look even bulkier were cooperating with various charity organizations. They worked to clear accumulated snow from sidewalks and roads, their breath forming white clouds in the still-frigid air.
More grimly, they were also attempting to collect the bodies of homeless people who had died unexpectedly due to the sudden plunge in temperature. The casualties of winter, invisible to most, mourned by few.
At this time, Nolan, wearing a long black coat that reached nearly to his ankles, walked deliberately along the nearby streets. His boots crunched through snow that had not yet been cleared by the overwhelmed cleanup crews, each step leaving deep impressions in the pristine white surface.
He turned his eyes slightly, allowing his gaze to sweep across the scene with studied calm. The stiff corpses being loaded onto trucks all wore strange smiles on their frozen faces, expressions locked in place by death and cold. Perhaps they'd found peace at the end. Perhaps it was just a trick of rigor mortis.
Either way, Nolan continued walking toward the road ahead without breaking stride, filing the sight away but not dwelling on it. He'd seen worse. He would see worse again.
At the same moment, a small vial of illusion dust, carefully sealed and secured, was tied firmly to his thick wrist beneath the coat sleeve. The container swayed slowly with his body's movement, the powder inside shifting gently with each step.
At this moment, Nolan was traveling to Manhattan General Hospital, one of the city's premier private medical facilities. It was the exclusive medical center where Imperial Heavy Industries had arranged for Jessica Jones to receive treatment following her injuries.
Originally, he had planned something far simpler. His intention had been to collect Jessica directly, even though her injuries had not yet fully healed through conventional means, and transport her back to the underground base. There, he would use either the Panacea or the All Souls Resurrection Potion to complete her final treatment rapidly and comprehensively.
The plan had been straightforward, efficient, and entirely reasonable from his perspective.
However, this decision had been immediately and strongly opposed by a particular neurosurgeon who bore primary responsibility for Jessica's ongoing medical care. The doctor's resistance had been absolute and entirely unmovable.
The reason given by this physician had been frustratingly straightforward in its logic.
If the patient's family members or associates moved the patient out of the hospital without proper authorization and against medical advice, then the bones in the injured person's body that had not yet fully calcified and healed would be placed at serious risk. The nerve tissue that had only just been painstakingly repaired through multiple delicate surgical procedures could easily be damaged again, potentially irreversibly.
Furthermore, the doctor had stated with clinical bluntness, he had absolutely no intention of becoming involved in similar medical malpractice lawsuits. Such litigation would permanently stain his otherwise perfect professional resume, and he'd worked too hard building his reputation to allow that.
So, even though the liaison team from Imperial Heavy Industries had argued until they were nearly hoarse, even though they had repeatedly promised in writing not to pursue any legal action against the hospital or the doctor personally for Jessica's early discharge, their assurances had made no difference.
The attending neurosurgeon had remained immovable in his refusal to authorize Jessica's departure from medical supervision. His position was absolute: she could not be released until she had fully recovered through natural healing processes, regardless of how long that might take.
In this frustrating manner, the choice had fallen back into Nolan's hands, forcing him to select between equally inconvenient options.
He could either direct the legal department of Imperial Heavy Industries to formally intervene, spending considerable time and resources navigating bureaucratic procedures to legally compel Jessica's release from the hospital. The process would be tedious, expensive, and time-consuming.
Alternatively, he could simply go directly to the hospital himself and allow Jessica to consume the Panacea under the guise of a casual visit, enabling her to fully recover instantly and return home without any further complications or delays.
The second option was obviously superior in every practical sense.
So Nolan, unwilling to wait weeks or even months for legal proceedings to conclude, had stepped out of the underground base once again into the cold afternoon air.
This expedition also made him subconsciously miss the many conveniences that David's presence by his side had provided. The Man of Iron had handled so many of these tedious personal tasks, anticipated needs before they arose, smoothed obstacles before they became problems.
After all, as the old saying went, it was easy to transition from frugality to luxury, but extremely difficult to move in the opposite direction, from luxury back to frugality. Once you became accustomed to having an infinitely capable assistant, everything felt cumbersome by comparison.
Moreover, if David had still been available to handle similar administrative matters, Nolan probably wouldn't have even needed to physically leave the base at all. The Man of Iron would have found some elegant solution, pulled strings, made arrangements, solved the problem through channels Nolan couldn't even imagine.
But this period of relative inconvenience would not last too much longer, according to the timeline.
Based on the most recent status report transmitted by David, the Man of Iron had successfully located several large islands with appropriately hidden locations and rich seabed mineral deposits surrounding them. The sites checked every box on their requirements list.
David was currently leading teams of automatic servo robots in conducting final comprehensive exploration operations, mapping resources, testing soil composition, verifying the structural integrity of potential excavation sites.
Once David conclusively determined the optimal specific location for constructing the second base, the tedious excavation work required in the early stages would be completely delegated to those tireless automatic servo robots. They would dig, they would build, they would prepare.
And David, absent from home for far too long, would finally be able to return to the primary base site. From there, it could remotely control and coordinate the entire construction process of the second facility while simultaneously resuming its usual duties.
Nolan found himself looking forward to that reunion more than he'd expected.
Nolan, his tall frame wrapped in the black coat, blended into the crowds with practiced ease. His appearance was unremarkable enough that nobody gave him a second glance, just another visitor in a city full of them.
He entered Manhattan General Hospital's main lobby quietly, moving with the unhurried confidence of someone who belonged there.
The building's interior was warmly lit and impeccably maintained, everything speaking of wealth and exclusivity. Polished floors reflected overhead lights. Expensive artwork adorned the walls. Even the air smelled different than in public hospitals, somehow cleaner, almost sterile in its perfection.
Nolan deliberately avoided the elevators where small crowds gathered, waiting patients and visiting family members creating awkward silences in confined spaces. Instead, he walked toward the stairwell, following mental landmarks from his previous visit.
His memory of the building's layout proved accurate. He climbed steadily up to the fifth floor, taking the steps two at a time, his enhanced physiology making the exertion trivial.
When he successfully bypassed a nurse making her rounds, timing his movements to avoid her sight lines, he arrived at the door of Jessica's private ward without incident.
Through Nolan's keen hearing, sharpened far beyond human normal by genetic enhancement and the pebble kidney's subtle effects, a man's voice came clearly from within the supposedly soundproof ward. The acoustic isolation was excellent by normal standards, but entirely inadequate against his abilities.
"Ms. Jones, I know you may possess special abilities or unusual physiology that ordinary people lack, but as long as you remain fundamentally a human, the repair of bones and muscle tissue will require substantial time." The voice was cultured, educated, carrying an undertone of barely concealed condescension. "This is not some series of tricks employed by unscrupulous doctors to defraud patients' medical insurance, but rather a simple application of the law of conservation of energy."
A pause, then the voice continued with even more obvious mockery.
"Oh, but given your background, it's rather difficult for me to explain these concepts to you in terms you'd comprehend. So I won't bother making the attempt."
The dismissive tone sharpened.
"You simply need to understand and accept that preventing your early discharge is a joint decision reached by the hospital's medical staff. It's not personal. It's policy."
As soon as the man's needlessly provocative words concluded, Jessica's voice erupted from within the room. Her tone was absolutely saturated with anger and mounting anxiety, barely controlled fury threatening to boil over.
"Doctor! I have already stated repeatedly that I am willing to assume full responsibility for any complications! I will sign whatever liability waivers you want!"
Her voice rose in pitch and volume, frustration reaching breaking point.
"Why won't you allow me to leave this hospital? My employer has paid enormous sums of money for me to receive treatment here! Is this how you treat patients who've done everything asked of them?"
"Haha, that's precisely correct." The man's response carried infuriating calm, completely unbothered by her distress. "We are indeed the most expensive private medical center in all of New York. We focus obsessively on service quality and customer satisfaction, certainly."
He paused, and when he continued, steel entered his voice beneath the superficial politeness.
"But at the same time, maintaining that reputation also means that we attract the wealthy and powerful members of the upper class specifically because of our excellent track record. I categorically cannot and will not allow any medical defects or complications that might damage the hospital's reputation, or even worse, my own personal professional standing, to occur under my supervision."
The doctor's tone softened slightly, becoming almost patronizing.
"Please don't be angry, Ms. Jones. This is not discrimination against you personally, I assure you. It's simply a prudent measure taken by the hospital to prevent potential problems before they can develop. Standard protocol for cases like yours."
The man's maddeningly calm explanation had obviously only served to bring Jessica even more incomprehensible indignation, judging by the sounds of shifting sheets and muttered curses filtering through the door.
At this moment, Nolan, who had been eavesdropping for several minutes outside the ward, finally shook his head slightly in resignation. This wasn't going to resolve itself through further argument.
One of his hands reached out and gently grasped the handle of the ward door. He turned it slowly, pushing the door open with deliberate casualness.
"Jessica, I've told you before that you should not easily fall into the trap of uncontrolled emotions when you encounter any form of problem or obstacle." Nolan's voice cut through the tension in the room as he stepped inside. "The more you indulge your emotional reactions, the more the situation will spiral beyond your control and the less likely you are to achieve your desired outcome."
Inside the brightly lit private ward, which was furnished more like a luxury hotel suite than a hospital room, Nolan's eyes first focused on the tall and thin man wearing a pristine white doctor's coat. The physician was leaning against the window sill with his arms crossed over his chest in a posture of casual superiority, backlit by the gray winter light filtering through the glass.
Only then did Nolan turn his attention to Jessica, who had been lying on the luxurious hospital bed with obvious displeasure written across her features, practically radiating sulky frustration.
"Uh... Good afternoon, boss!" Jessica's eyes suddenly widened with surprise and relief as she recognized him. Her tone shifted dramatically, jumping several octaves in her obvious eagerness.
Nolan allowed a polite smile to appear on his lips, the expression automatic and professional. He slowly stepped further into the ward, his boots silent on the expensive carpeting.
Then, in a moment of perfect synchronization, both he and the tall, thin man who had straightened his back and turned to properly face this newcomer extended their hands toward each other almost simultaneously. The gesture was automatic, social protocol overriding the tension.
"Nolan. Jessica's employer. Perhaps even her guardian, depending on legal definitions." His introduction was succinct, professional, revealing minimal information.
"Stephen Strange, neurosurgeon." The doctor's grip was firm, confident, his hands surprisingly steady for someone in such a precision-dependent profession.
The two men's palms touched briefly in a professional handshake, held for precisely the socially appropriate duration, then slowly released. Their hands fell back to their respective sides, the greeting concluded.
Nolan narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied the man before him with greater attention. He didn't immediately turn back to check on Jessica's condition, trusting she could wait another moment.
Instead, he simply continued staring at Strange's thin, aristocratic face with its sharp features and calculating eyes. A slight smile played at Nolan's lips as he spoke, his tone carrying layers of meaning the doctor couldn't possibly understand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Strange."
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