The biggest difference between Bant and Killian was this—
Killian had nothing else to count on besides the Extremis virus.
He was waiting for Extremis to turn his miserable life around, to show everyone who looked down on him exactly what he could achieve.
Especially Tony Stark!
Killian craved success. He had to succeed, because only then could he gain a healthy body, superhuman status and power, fame and fortune!
But for Bant, the healing serum, the improved Super Soldier Serum… and all the other projects under research offered effects no less impressive than Extremis.
He had no intention of putting all his resources into something so flawed.
A virus—who could say what consequences it would bring while reshaping the human body?
Moreover, viruses evolve and mutate rapidly. They're hard to control.
Just like the Neo-X virus. It was originally engineered by some Americans targeting Asian genetics, but soon after release it swept across the entire world and spiraled completely out of control.
Even inside the lab, Bant could suppress the progression of the Extremis virus, but the moment it left the lab, there was no telling what might happen.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Killian, but your research doesn't align with our company's development direction."
Bant shook his head and pushed the documents on the desk back toward Killian.
The gesture instantly plunged Killian into despair.
"But… but…"
"I'm almost there!"
Truthfully, Killian couldn't understand.
A research project that was practically on the verge of bearing fruit—just one final step away from reaping the harvest. Prometheus only needed to invest a tiny bit of capital to enjoy the results. Wasn't that far more reliable than all those labs scamming for funding?
And now, with a fortune right in front of Bant's eyes, he was actually turning it down?
"Or… are you dissatisfied with the profit split? We can negotiate that slowly. Even if you want thirty percent…"
What?!
Seven parts for the other guy, and only three for himself?
Bant nearly blurted it out.
But honestly, thirty percent was not a small cut. After all, Extremis was just a hair's breadth from success. Even if Prometheus had to invest, it wouldn't take much money.
"It's not about the split."
Bant spoke. "Mr. Killian, you're the creator of the Extremis virus. There's no way you're unaware of its drawbacks."
Killian fell silent in an instant.
Extremis was highly unstable, and he knew that better than anyone.
All current experimental data showed that if a test subject experienced violent emotional turmoil, it was highly likely to trigger a surge in viral load, causing the entire body to ignite and explode.
And that was only the flaw at this stage. As the virus continued to evolve and mutate, all kinds of variants could emerge.
Faced with someone who truly understood the science, Killian couldn't force out the words "I can control it."
After trembling for a long moment, Killian suddenly deflated like a punctured balloon, turning gaunt and hollow.
"I'm sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Parker."
"I'll take my leave now…"
The somewhat disheveled man frantically gathered the messy papers from the desk and got up, like a stray dog slinking away.
"Wait."
Bant stopped him.
"Is there something else, Mr. Parker?"
Killian paused. He couldn't imagine why Bant would still want to keep him here. Could the man have changed his mind?
He knew it was unlikely.
But he couldn't help a sliver of hope.
Bant said, "I noticed that you seem to have some physical issues, Mr. Killian?"
Killian clenched his fists instantly, a sharp sting piercing his heart. But before he could react, Bant continued.
"As it happens, Prometheus's healing serum has reached a new stage in research. Whether the damage is acquired or stems from a genetic defect, there's now a possibility of a cure. I wonder if Mr. Killian would be willing to give it a try?"
Killian's eyes lit up, but the light quickly dimmed.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I can't afford the treatment…"
"No charge." Bant's tone was calm. "Though the Extremis virus doesn't fit Prometheus's development philosophy, I do admire your intellect. A genius like you shouldn't be constrained by a broken exterior."
Killian didn't know how to refuse, and he couldn't refuse Bant's proposal anyway.
In fact, by the time he came back to his senses, he found himself already lying in a Prometheus hospital bed, waiting for surgery.
Outside the operating room.
Mary Jane was a bit puzzled.
"Bant, you clearly don't plan to work with him, so why help him?"
"It's not that I don't plan to work with him—it's that the current direction of Extremis development is wrong," Bant said, shaking his head.
In some versions, the Extremis virus was fundamentally a form of nanotechnology. Since Killian and Hansen could create the current Extremis, there was no reason they couldn't develop a superior version.
So Bant's gesture was also a way of extending goodwill.
Anyway, the cost of the healing serum was dirt cheap by now. It wouldn't cost him much.
As for who Killian would find to keep funding the current Extremis after leaving Prometheus, or what kind of revenge he might seek against Tony—that was none of Bant's business.
The trouble Tony Stark stirred up was for Tony Stark to clean up himself.
Bant still had a mountain of research and magic to study.
"Ah, right."
Just as Bant was about to leave, he suddenly remembered something.
He took out the Mind Stone, wrapped in an enchanted container, and handed it to Mary Jane.
"An Infinity Stone?"
Mary Jane froze, not understanding what Bant was up to.
"I thought this stone was supposed to be stored at the Celestial Workshop space station?"
Back when Bant had created the Celestial Energy Dimension—Regidomon—at the Ancient One's place, he had returned the stones. Three were kept on Sakaar, while the Mind Stone remained on Earth.
He still needed the stone's energy to awaken Wanda and Pietro's powers.
"This one isn't real. The energy inside can only be used once," Bant explained. "Keep it at the company for now. I suspect someone's going to need it soon."
Bant was, of course, referring to Ultron.
Tony was already working on the Ultron defense system. His intentions were good, but Ultron was the kind of entity that browsed the internet for five minutes and immediately decided to wipe out all humanity.
Bant figured he couldn't blame Ultron for that.
After all, the internet truly magnified the malice of so many people. Sometimes, even Bant himself went online, browsed around, and felt like destroying the world out of sheer frustration.
But Bant's focus wasn't on Ultron itself. It was on the body Ultron intended to build for himself.
A vibranium body created using the theoretical framework of Helen Cho's Regeneration Cradle—the future Vision.
But as far as Bant was concerned, Vision could just not show up at all.
The guy's idea of using the Mind Stone was shooting lasers. Utterly pathetic, a total waste of vibranium.
Bant's plan was this: since Ultron was so generous as to prepare a body, Bant would graciously accept it and then give Eunice a chance.
Exactly!
He intended to use Ultron's efforts to give Eunice a physical form.
Bant clapped his hands together. Forget Tony Stark, forget Ultron—you're all working for me now!
"Deliver this file to Dr. Cho and increase the funding for the Regeneration Cradle. Tell her that if she runs into any difficulty, upload it immediately to Eunice's database. I'll handle it personally."
Bant handed a physical document to Mary Jane. Inside were his own research and analysis of the Regeneration Cradle, along with his vision for the capabilities Eunice would possess in the future.
The Unitrix—he'd had the idea of completing her for a long time. Now was the perfect opportunity.
The only problem was that Helen Cho's theory wasn't perfected yet. Even if it reached the level seen during the Ultron incident, in Bant's eyes it still wouldn't be good enough.
After giving his instructions, Bant prepared to head to Kamar-Taj again.
At this stage, cultivating Celestial Energy was still far more important.
After all, the Unitrix thing—even if he missed the Ultron window, with the technology and materials, he could accomplish it anytime.
Bant departed, and after he left, the mysterious power belonging to the Spider Totem began to stir.
In a corner no one noticed, the web of spider-events was slowly taking shape.
For Flint Marko, these days had been absolutely surreal.
First, the Kingpin of crime, Wilson Fisk, died at the hands of the Black Cat, the Queen of the Night. Then the gangs came under attack from every direction. And then, an alien invasion.
All of Manhattan was razed to the ground, and Hell's Kitchen was no exception.
But that also brought new opportunities.
The alien corpses left behind after the battle were covered in alien tech. Plenty of people took the risk and made a fortune scavenging.
And after the war, the Queen of the Night, who used to prowl Hell's Kitchen, vanished.
With the Black Cat gone, the sewer rats crawled back out again.
Flint Marko was no exception.
Except his luck wasn't great. He'd been arrested earlier and missed the golden chance to loot alien drops.
Now that he'd finally gotten out of prison, he ran straight into the Black Cat's reappearance.
And from what he'd gathered, the number of superhero vigilantes on the streets of New York had been growing lately.
All signs pointed to the same conclusion: staying in New York probably wasn't a good choice anymore.
Flint walked through the darkening streets, his gaze drifting toward the distance.
The city's towers were draped in green mesh and scaffolding, like an injured man wrapped in casts and bandages, living in broken pieces.
The city had long been broken.
But at least it was being treated now. Prometheus had plated it with steel and bound it in gauze. One day, New York would show a brand-new face.
Just like the people working at the construction sites.
Rebuilding New York provided jobs for many. Everyone was happy—but Flint Marko couldn't share that happiness.
Because manual labor brought in money far too slowly. He couldn't afford to wait!
"One more score, then ditch this name and head to Georgia," Flint thought to himself.
He didn't care about his current name. It was a fake anyway.
His real name was William Baker.
The very same William Baker that Bant had searched for in the NYPD network but couldn't find—the future Sandman…
Prometheus basement.
Uncle Ben and Aunt May changed out of their Hydroelectrician uniforms, getting ready to go home.
Both of them had now passed the Level One Hydroelectrician exam and had become proud, certified Level One Hydroelectricians.
Though in terms of combat strength, Ben was already no weaker than Harry now.
Aunt May sighed. "Wanda and Pietro went to the space station. It feels a bit lonely with just the two of us left."
"Can't be helped. There's plenty of work to do here on Earth. Besides, I only really sleep well in that little house in Queens," Ben said. "If we had to commute between space and Earth every day, that would be a hassle too."
Aunt May nodded. She thought the same, which was why she hadn't gone to live on the space station.
"Good thing Dr. Banner went with them. I just hope they don't fall behind in their studies."
In Aunt May's eyes, nothing was more important than getting a proper education.
Look how outstanding her good boy Bant was now?
All because he studied hard and worked diligently!
Bant: Omnitrix, transform!
The two chatted as they made their way to the garage and climbed into Ben's old car, then continued talking about missions.
Lately they'd been investigating the missing alien weapons.
Although Norman had immediately deployed Skyhammer Bureau agents to clean up after the battle, some people were faster and managed to stash away bits of tech.
Those things were dangerous enough on their own. If anyone actually managed to study them and unlock something, that would be a serious hidden threat.
So Skyhammer agents and the handful of Hydroelectricians were on the case. Even Peter had gotten involved.
That kid had barely returned from space when he ran into some flying guy during a mission and went off to investigate.
Neither of them was too worried about Peter's safety. After all, they'd fought aliens—why would they fret over a little Vulture?
The sky had already darkened.
Christmas was only a few days away. Ben and May chatted idly, thinking about what gifts to give the kids.
And it was right then that a sudden shout rang out from the end of the street.
It instantly grabbed Ben and May's attention.
Uncle Ben slammed on the brakes and turned his head. He saw a burly man clutching something to his chest, running in sheer terror.
It was William Baker!
Having decided to leave New York for a while, William Baker had wasted no time grabbing a small pistol and picking a target to rob.
A dingy underground boxing ring became his mark.
But since the job was hastily thrown together, William Baker hadn't planned an escape route.
Now the boxing ring's security had burst out after him. And at that exact moment, he spotted Uncle Ben's car parked by the curb.
In that instant, only one thought echoed in William Baker's mind:
Steal that car and get the hell out!
If the people inside dared resist, just shoot them dead!
And so, with no idea that he was about to face Hydroelectricians, William Baker charged forward with that tiny pistol in hand.
/-\
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