Walking home through the evening streets of Queens, Peter was thinking.
At the same time, he noted bitterly how agonizingly slow and…
dull this process had become.
Standard thinking, after several hours of a brain running on the Elixir of Intelligence, felt like a cruel joke.
Like giving a blind man sight for a couple of hours, showing him the world in ultra-high resolution, with all its invisible patterns and connections, and then gouging his eyes out again, leaving only a memory of the light.
The world that had just been a crystal-clear stream of data had turned back into a murky, slow river.
His own mind, which he had always considered his greatest asset, now felt sluggish and inefficient.
But even so, Peter adapted.
He forced himself to get used to the old, unhurried thoughts, the absence of thousands of brilliant ideas per second, the imperfect memory.
And now, in that familiar slowness, he was thinking about John.
An ordinary guy.
Studying in the same stream as MJ, who, for all that, couldn’t tell him anything concrete about him.
Unremarkable clothes, unremarkable appearance, total, all-encompassing…
ordinariness.
Peter himself would have been the same if not for his passion for science.
But Peter, unlike John, didn’t have the formulas.
Formulas that had turned his scientific worldview upside down.
Formulas that, he now realized, even a genius of the caliber of Reed Richards or Curt Connors could hardly have created.
They worked within the bounds of physics and genetics.
But John’s “alchemy” seemed to simply ignore those bounds, forcing reality to obey its own, alien logic.
And it all came from a guy who, by his own admission, had no scientific background whatsoever.
So where did it come from?
Fine.
Whatever.
Peter wisely decided not to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.
When the time came, John would tell him himself.
And if not, there would be reasons for it.
All he could do on his part was to keep his secret.
And he knew how to keep secrets…
This train of thought smoothly drifted to another, the most serious and carefully guarded secret he held.
A secret he had uncovered almost by accident, simply by applying the scientific method where others saw only coincidences.
The identity of Spider-Woman.
His lab colleague, Gwen Stacy.
Naturally, she had no idea that he knew.
And Peter himself…
he simply couldn’t help but notice.
It started as a hypothesis, born from a simple comparison of facts: the moments of Gwen’s sudden disappearances from work (“I urgently need to see a doctor,” “family problems”) correlated perfectly with the heroine’s appearances on the city streets, which the news sites were blaring about.
Out of curiosity, he started a password-protected file on his computer.
A spreadsheet.
One column—the time and reason for Gwen’s absence.
Another—the time and location of Spider-Woman’s appearances according to news and police reports.
After a month of observation, the conclusion was obvious: during all that time, Gwen Stacy in the lab and Spider-Woman on the streets of New York had never been in two places at once.
The correlation was one hundred percent.
After that, Peter started noticing small details.
A small bruise on her cheekbone that she tried to hide with concealer, the day after Spider-Woman stopped a robbery by flying through a storefront.
A deep scratch on her forearm, perfectly matching a news photo of the heroine dodging a criminal’s knife.
A slight limp after a hard landing he’d seen in a bystander’s video.
But what amazed him most was her unnatural regeneration.
Cuts and bruises that would take a week to heal on an ordinary person disappeared on her overnight.
Even the phrase “heals like a dog” was inadequate here.
This was a biological anomaly.
Naturally, Peter told no one about his observations and suspicions.
Not even Gwen herself.
Why?
To burden her with another secret, another reason for worry?
He respected heroes who genuinely helped others.
As his Uncle Ben once told him when the first news report about Spider-Woman aired on TV: “With great power comes great responsibility.” Gwen used her power responsibly.
A bit reckless and risky, in his humble opinion, but who was he to tell her what to do?
At least, who was he before?
A struggling student, barely any friends, living off his uncle and aunt.
And who was he now?
The evening just past had changed everything.
Now he knew how to create a combat stimulant that turned a person into a predator.
He knew how to create a muscle stimulant whose operating principles still made his scientific gut cringe.
He knew how to create “Proteus”a fabric decades ahead of modern technology.
In his head, in his hands, he now held real power.
Power capable of changing the world.
And with it, as his uncle’s voice echoed in his memory, came responsibility.
What was the point of all these stimulants, of the cool protective fabric, if they just gathered dust in a box at John’s?
Wasn’t it irresponsible to possess power and not use it for good?
He could become a real hero.
The kind he had always dreamed of being in his heart…
But those were thoughts for another day, not even for tomorrow.
He needed to think everything through carefully, work with John, maybe even discuss this with him.
Who knew what other surprises this guy had in store?
Especially considering his last “assignment.”
The Ghost Orchid.
A special flower Peter had never heard of before, which was the key component of the Elixir of Intelligence.
The task John had set was both simple and incredibly complex: understand what the alkaloid “Fantasmium” contained in the flower’s pollen was.
Analyze its structure, properties, and find a way to synthesize an analog.
John had helpfully left him one flower in a special container, having first instructed him on its care.
And those instructions…
again, went beyond science.
But Peter was starting to get used to this madness.
But besides the Orchid itself, John had left him something far more valuable.
The Elixir of Intelligence recipe itself.
It wasn’t just a list of ingredients.
It was an act of the highest trust that Peter simply could not and would not betray.
And he didn’t intend to.
He would build a theoretical foundation, formulate dozens of hypotheses, run all possible analyses, so he’d have something to build on before the final brainstorming session.
A session he would conduct under the influence of his own, self-made Elixir.
Besides synthesizing Fantasmium, there were other, even more ambitious tasks ahead of them.
Improve the Elixir, perhaps change its form factor to pills or capsules.
And ideally…
achieve a permanent effect.
Just the thought of it took Peter’s breath away.
A permanent, irreversible intellectual buff.
That was a goal worthy of a genius.
And those temporary “visions” would have to be used to their maximum potential.
Peter walked along the night street, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Intelligence.
The thing he had secretly prided himself on his entire life.
It turned out it could be several orders of magnitude cooler.
And Peter was in incredible anticipation of what other peaks he would conquer.
* * *
Creating Blade’s alchemical grenades turned out to be a surprisingly meditative process.
This was thanks to the “Master Clockmaker” skill.
A skill that, it turned out, extended far beyond gears and springs.
It granted me inhuman precision and care in my movements, turning dangerous work with volatile chemicals into a measured dance.
Not a single extra drop, not a single wrong move.
In four hours of focused work, I created five copies of each of the three grenades.
And the result pleased me more than enough.
[Potion ‘Solar Flash’ created.
Difficulty: Low.
+100 CP gained!]
[Potion ‘Garlic Cloud’ created.
Difficulty: Low.
+100 CP gained!]
[Potion ‘Silver Gel’ created.
Difficulty: Minimal.
+50 CP gained!]
Subsequent crafts yielded fewer and fewer points, but from all fifteen potions combined, I got 630 CP.
With the 50 I already had, the final balance reached a solid 680 CP.
Tomorrow this number would grow even larger when I started on the Beast Potion.
But for now—sleep.
Naturally, before bed, I spent part of my savings on “Forging the Universe” for 400 CP.
[Information package (Common) received – Master Gourmet (Dungeon of Delicacies).
Unlock cost: 200 CP]
“Your refined sense for culinary and alchemical discoveries has reached perfection.
This passive skill completely neutralizes any negative effects from food, drinks, and potions…
Your body extracts the maximum from every dish or elixir, enhancing their positive effects by 15%!”
“Dungeon of Delicacies”?
Was the System an anime fan?
I smirked, but immediately sent a mental command: “Unlock!” Without a moment’s hesitation.
A passive skill granting immunity to poisons and toxins was invaluable in itself.
But a 15% boost to positive effects?!
That was a direct upgrade to everything I did!
My stimulants would become stronger, the Elixir of Intelligence more effective.
Even if that were the only effect, I’d still take it.
The remaining 80 CP might not be much, but it was something I could earn back; permanent passive boosts were the foundation of my future power.
In high spirits, I took a shower and went to bed.
But my sleep was short-lived.
Around three in the morning, I was torn from Morpheus’s embrace by an annoying ringtone.
An unknown number.
I already had a guess who it was.
“Yo, rookie!
The best bloodsucker eviscerator on the line!” Blade’s annoyingly cheerful-for-three-in-the-morning voice burst into the sleepy silence.
“Yeah, I figured…” I croaked into the phone, trying to pry my eyes open.
“What’s with the sourpuss, didn’t get enough sleep?” Chuckling briefly, Blade got down to business.
“Here’s why I’m calling.
Your muscle stimulant is a seriously awesome piece of work.
Works on me too, and I’m already superhuman.”
“That’s good to hear,” I replied genuinely.
It would have been a shame if it didn’t work on those already beyond human limits.
Though something told me the effect would be minimal on someone like Steve Rogers or the Hulk…
“‘Good’ is an understatement!
I had a hell of a time tonight at a gothic dive in Meatpacking.
Ran into a couple of purebloods, they almost had me pinned.
My ‘Beast Potion’ is a potent brew; even I get a crash from it.
So I was just starting to run out of steam, and then your stimulant kicked in…
You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I got my second wind.
Died of surprise, eheheh.”
He sounded genuinely pleased.
And this was the perfect moment.
“Hmm, yeah…
Speaking of the ‘Beast Potion’…” I paused, savoring the moment.
“I tinkered with the recipe a bit.
It has no side effects now.”
Silence fell on the other end of the line.
So sudden and deep that I even checked to see if the call had dropped.
.”..What?!” he finally managed.
His voice was no longer cheerful, but stunned.
“Please tell me you’re joking.
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, how the fuck did you manage?!
You’re not, by any chance, the illegitimate son of Reed Richards and Tony Stark?!”
“I won’t go into details, but this isn’t a joke,” my voice sounded absolutely steady and confident at three in the morning.
“And yes, the improved ‘Beast Potion’ is now available for ‘sale’ from my end too.”
I deliberately emphasized the last word.
Blade paused for a second on the other end, processing the information.
“Yeah, no doubt, that’s fair,” he finally replied, and his voice no longer had its earlier casualness, but businesslike tones.
“But you might at least give me a rough price list so I know what to expect.”
“It’s simple.
Rare ingredients, unique formulas, useful connections, information.
Possibly interesting artifacts and technologies not available to the public.
I’m not that interested in money.
Though,” I paused, “I can sell the combat and muscle stimulants for cash.
Say, ten grand per injector.”
“Whee-w,” Blade whistled in surprise and respect.
“You’re playing for high stakes, kid.
I respect that.
But why didn’t you mention your ‘mind-expanding’ potion?”
“Because it’s incomparably more valuable.
It’s not for sale for money.”
“Whoa…” he exhaled.
“Now I want to try it even more.
But okay, I get it.
Mass-market stuff for cash, exclusives for something more interesting.”
“In short, yeah.
Bring me, say, a dozen Ghost Orchid flowers, and you’ll get at least one Elixir in return.
Speaking of connections…
Who in this city can I buy a gun from?
No licenses, no awkward questions, and at a fair price.” It was a question I’d had for a while, but I really didn’t want to deal with the shady, definitely-not-suspicious dealers from Hell’s Kitchen, so I’d put it off.
Now was the time to get serious about security.
“I’ll give you that info for free, consider it a bonus for the stimulant,” he answered without hesitation.
“You can go to Lucas.
He can get anything your sick imagination can dream up, as long as you have the money.
Even a tank.
But if you want to feel it first, test it out, pick what suits you…
then you need to see my little brother, Frankie.
But he’s…
a guy with principles.
Picks his clients carefully.”
Frankie?
Was that Frank Castle?
The Punisher?
A chill ran down my spine at the thought.
I wisely kept that question to myself.
“Alright, listen, Eric, I’m…” I yawned demonstratively into the phone.
“Got it, got it, don’t fall apart.
I’ll swing by during the day about the barter.
Will you have time to make the improved ‘Beast Potions’?”
“Yeah.
Send me the info on Frankie by text.
I’m going to sleep.”
I ended the call and, without spending a second thinking about it, instantly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Sunday morning turned out surprisingly sunny.
In high spirits, after a quick breakfast, I went down to the garage.
All the ingredients, including the ones Peter had synthesized, were laid out on the clean workbench.
The instructions were in my head, and thanks to the “Master Clockmaker,” they weren’t going anywhere.
Picking up a flask, I began to work my Alchemy.
First, I created the original “Beast Potion” using Blade’s recipe.
Subconsciously, the process felt…
crude.
Unstable.
Like assembling an engine with a sledgehammer.
Which wasn’t surprising, considering I knew that this potion, for all its positive effects, was genuinely dangerous!
[Potion ‘Beast Potion’ created.
Difficulty: Normal.
+150 CP gained!]
Ah, only 150.
Not the 200 I’d expected.
Now for Peter’s improved recipe.
Working with it was completely different.
Elegant, precise, stable.
Every step felt instinctively right.
Was this the System’s influence, or the Master Clockmaker skill?
Not that it mattered; the first improved stimulant was ready!
[Potion ‘Absolute Predator Serum’ created.
Difficulty: Normal.
+200 CP gained!]
The System had even given it a different name.
Now it was all clear.
Side effects, for the System, were an indicator of an imperfect product, for which it cut the final reward.
Over the next couple of hours, I created another four “Beast Potions” (purely for CP farming) and a dozen “Absolute Predator Serums”my new flagship product.
In the end, my balance was at 1070 CP.
Enough for two rolls.
I was already opening the System window, anticipating another dose of luck or disappointment, when the silence of Sunday morning was torn apart by the low, guttural roar of a powerful engine.
A black 1969 Dodge Charger pulled up and stopped in front of my house, in perfect condition despite its age, clearly a car that was lovingly cared for.
The synonym for “Armageddon” for vampires stepped out of it with lazy grace.
Alright.
The rolls could wait a little.
com / Granulan