Boom!
The captain, who had been speaking just moments ago, suddenly detonated into a burst of fireworks before everyone’s eyes.
Shards of light and viscera sprayed across the nearby sailors like a grotesque mosaic.
Luca lowered his left hand from his eyes reluctantly, noting that the explosive yield had been smaller than anticipated.
This marked his first unequivocally positive experience, unfortunately involving another human being, which stirred an unexpected flicker of melancholy.
“What happened?!” The remaining sailors went pale, abandoning any pretense of wiping the blood from their bodies as they cast about in panic.
A squad of elite soldiers would have already drawn weapons and dispersed to find cover.
These men, however, stood frozen, perfect targets if any real enemy lurked nearby.
Then again, Luca mused, considering half of them are barely competent river pirates, expecting special forces quality would be unrealistic.
“I really didn’t want to resort to killing,” Luca sighed, spreading his hands with practiced nonchalance.
“If only you’d simply delivered us safely to our destination!” He found himself curiously unaffected by his first murder, if anything, vaguely exhilarated, despite having been inadvertently sprayed by the victim’s remains.
The original owner of this body must have possessed genuine antisocial tendencies.
In contrast, Luca himself had spent thirty-plus years as a law-abiding citizen whose most significant kill was limited to poultry.
“You?
What did you do?!” The boat’s master finally snapped out of his stupor, fumbling frantically for the weapon at his waist.
In his panic, he couldn’t even manage the simple holster snap, these black-market ferry operators played the part of petty tyrants when confronting isolated stowaways, but in reality, they ranked among the lowest predators in the food chain.
Genuinely capable men didn’t end up running illegal riverboats.
“I’d advise you to reconsider reaching for that gun,” Luca said mildly.
“But first, check the back of your belt, gently, I suggest.
It might detonate prematurely otherwise.” The boat master’s hand stopped mid-motion.
The other sailors likewise went rigid.
One by one, they became aware of an unfamiliar sensation against their lower backs, something adhering to their belts.
Each discovered a small patch that looked disturbingly like chewing gum.
Hardworking river pirates weren’t exactly fastidious about personal hygiene, so an extra bit of grime on their clothing would normally go unnoticed.
But this was different.
“C4 plastic explosive.
You witnessed its effectiveness just now.” “One slight press of the detonator, and you’ll all join our late blood stain in whatever afterlife awaits river pirates.” Luca gestured toward what remained of the most vocal sailor.
He’d made a point of shaking hands with everyone upon boarding, ingratiating himself while simultaneously planting charges throughout the vessel.
Even if someone discovered the ‘chewing gum’ in advance, he could still threaten to sink the entire boat.
With his natural gift for demolition, Luca qualified as a genuine explosives expert, top-tier, no dilution of skill required.
If he chose to remain in Sokovia, warlords would undoubtedly compete for his services.
Or he could establish himself as a local power broker in the lawless regions of South America or Africa, where such expertise commanded premium value.
For now, however, his immediate concern was ensuring this boat reached its destination with its current crew properly motivated to cooperate.
Luca, a man with infinite potential, found such a stagnant existence held no appeal.
His ambitions reached far beyond, toward the sea of stars itself.
Under the implicit threat of high explosives, the boatmen capitulated instantly.
They had signed up for transporting desperate refugees, not for becoming unwilling participants in a suicide mission.
Thus, in an atmosphere of forced cordiality and mutual understanding, Luca outfitted each remaining crew member with a reinforced metal vest, the “deluxe edition,” as he called it.
After all, the C4 discreetly attached to their waistbands posed certain…
practical risks.
What if someone forgot themselves during a bathroom break?
Far better to transfer the explosives to something more stable, like a vest worn directly against the chest, where detonation remained equally assured but accidental activation became marginally less likely.
The boat master and his sailors wore expressions of profound bereavement.
They were simple river pirates, the most sophisticated technology in their possession was the aging pistol holstered at the hip.
When had any of them encountered remotely controlled explosive devices?
Who wouldn’t suffer a mental collapse with a ticking bomb strapped to their chest?
The boat master mentally cursed his dead colleague ten thousand times over.
He’d known from the moment he saw this passenger, with his sharp eyes that assessed everything like a wolf evaluating prey, that trouble was coming.
But that idiot had to provoke him anyway.
Now look, one man reduced to unrecognizable fragments, the rest wearing bomb vests.
The crew worked with desperate efficiency throughout the night.
What should have been a four-day journey concluded in less than three.
Taking advantage of the pre-dawn darkness, Luca guided the Maximoff twins ashore onto Italian soil.
Italy… famous for pasta, for artillery design, and most relevantly, for its organized crime networks.
The Italian military?
Let’s not stray into comedy.
The Italian mafia, naturally, operated with considerably more sophistication than Sokovian river pirates.
For a fee of two hundred thousand dollars, covering visa processing and appropriate documentation, Luca transformed overnight from a Sokovian refugee into a legitimate Italian citizen.
Wanda and Pietro became his officially registered half-siblings, their information entered directly into municipal databases.
Authentic documentation, verifiable by anyone who cared to check.
After a brief two-day stay in Italy, Luca secured tickets under his new identity and departed for New York.
Christmas approached rapidly, and the new year would herald Tony Stark’s emergence as Iron Man.
Luca intended to be present for that historical moment, front row seats, as it were.
Everything depended on Iron Man.
Fortunes would be made.
Opportunities seized.
“The target has departed from Rome.
Destination: New York.” As Luca and the Maximoffs boarded their flight, a handsome young man hurried through the airport terminal, speaking quietly into his concealed communicator.
“Our client wants a meet-and-greet in New York.
Assess whether he’s recruitable.” An aged voice responded through the earpiece.
“Understood.” The young operative maintained his neutral expression, though inwardly he marveled at the coincidence.
He’d come to Italy for routine investigative work and stumbled upon someone with demonstrated expertise in explosives.
Luca, attempting to eliminate loose ends, had remotely detonated the ferry once it traveled sufficient distance from shore.
In his estimation, a sinking fishing boat in the Mediterranean would attract no attention.
Clever.
Perhaps too clever.
Because that explosion, if handled differently might have gone entirely unnoticed.
Instead, it had drawn precisely the kind of attention he least desired.