Three days. Only three days had passed since that night when Fortune—apparently deciding to apologize for the morning parade of useless junk—showered me with upgrades of Epic and even Legendary caliber. It felt like an eternity. Over these seventy-two hours, my life had settled into a new, strange groove that had become almost… routine? If, of course, you can call it routine to wake up next to a combat android from the future, eat breakfasts she prepares with a terrifyingly fast learning curve, attend a regular high school where your best friend is a potential Spider-Man while the son of a future supervillain tries to hit on a redhead beauty, and return home to… well, let's just say highly unconventional hygiene procedures and sleeping while hugging that same platinum-haired mystery.
Speaking of mysteries: the Kyon template from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya assimilated completely in literally half a day. "Common" rarity is the same everywhere you go, it seems. And it turned out to be exactly as useful as expected.
Aside from a suddenly appearing middle-school-level Japanese vocabulary (undoubtedly useful if I ever decide to watch anime without subtitles) and a certain stoic apathy toward the surrounding absurdity (which I already had well-developed anyway), this template gave me absolutely nothing. No superpowers, no secret knowledge, not even the ability to brew decent coffee (2B handled that now, and admittedly, she was getting better and better at it).
Well, at least I didn't get amnesia—thanks for small favors. Sometimes it felt like the only real benefit from Kyon was my increased ability to provide sarcastic commentary on everything happening… though, for now, only inside my own head. Who knows, what if a Haruhi showed up nearby and everything started spinning out of control again? No thanks, I'll pass.
December 23rd. Noon.
And so today, after another portion of school "wisdom" and a brief meeting with Peter at the abandoned factory (the suit is almost ready, the impact webbing prototype is assembled—progress was in full swing), I returned home. After the now-habitual shared bath, where "tactile interaction data collection" proceeded with even more efficiency and fewer protocol-driven excuses from 2B (she was still bashful but no longer trying so hard to hide it), I sprawled out on the living room sofa.
2B, who this time decided to master the culinary "baking module," was working her magic in the kitchen. A pleasant aroma of something potato-based and spicy wafted from there. Barely five minutes later, she appeared with a large bowl of crispy, golden, perfectly sliced homemade chips.
"Empirical Test №3. Potato chips with paprika and rosemary. Recipe adapted from the European cuisine database. Recommended consumption temperature: room temperature," she stated, placing the bowl in front of me. Her voice was steady, but I caught a shadow of… anticipation?
"Wow, thanks, 2B! These look amazing!" I took a chip. The crunch was perfect. The taste, too. Salt, paprika, a light hint of rosemary… Not over-dried, not too greasy. "This is… this is just magnificent! You've outdone yourself!"
She stood nearby, and I saw the corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly beneath her blindfold.
"Your positive feedback has been logged. Recipe parameters will be saved as optimal. Is an additional portion or other forms of support required?"
"No, no, this is more than enough!" I assured her, happily crunching away. "You can… rest. Or read. Or whatever it is you usually do for… self-analysis?"
She nodded and silently retreated to my room, likely picking up her comics again or simply deciding to analyze the concept of "pleasure from food" in silence. Armed with my bowl of chips and the remote, I stared at the old TV.
News, talk shows, stupid sitcoms, Christmas sale commercials… I lazily flicked through the channels, letting my brain rest after the school day and the usual round of thoughts about the Goblin, Connors, and other upcoming "joys" of life. And then I stumbled onto a live broadcast. A press conference. A familiar logo in the background—"Stark Industries." And a familiar face in the center…
On the screen, in front of a crowd of journalists buzzing like a disturbed hive, stood Tony Stark. Or rather, he hadn't been standing; he had just entered the hall, surrounded by a tight ring of security, Pepper Potts, Obadiah Stane, and Lt. Col. James Rhodes. He looked… rough. His thousand-dollar suit fit perfectly, but there was a fresh bruise under his eye, a couple of scratches on his cheekbone, and his right arm was in a sling. But the famous billionaire-playboy smirk was in place, though it seemed a bit… forced? In his eyes, usually sparking with fun and self-satisfaction, there was now a visible exhaustion and something else—a new, unfamiliar depth.
"Greetings, everyone," he began in his usual, slightly careless tone, but his voice was quieter than normal. In his hand, he held… a cheeseburger? Seriously? He came to his first press conference after a miraculous rescue from Afghan captivity with a cheeseburger?! Classic Stark. The crowd of journalists was stunned for a second before exploding again into a roar of questions and camera shutters.
[CLICK! CLICK! CLACK! A DRONE OF VOICES: "Mr. Stark! How do you feel?", "What happened in Afghanistan?", "Is it true you were kidnapped by terrorists?", "What is your condition?", "Will you return to running the company?"]
"Hey, hey, take it easy!" Stark raised the hand holding the burger, calling for silence. The noise died down slightly, but the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"I hope you don't mind if I speak while sitting on the floor?" He scanned the room with his signature disarming smile. "It's less formal. And my legs… after a walk in the desert… aren't holding up great."
Without waiting for an answer, he lowered himself—with a slight groan (not necessarily a sincere one)—right onto the carpet in front of the podium, crossing his legs. Pepper gasped, Obadiah rolled his eyes, Rhodey shrugged in confusion, but they all followed his lead, sitting down around him. The journalists exchanged looks of total bewilderment; the camera clicks intensified. This was a violation of all protocols, all the rules of the game. This was a one-man theater, and his name was Tony Stark.
[RUSTLING, WHISPERS IN THE HALL, INTENSIFIED CAMERA CLICKS]
He took a solid bite of his burger, chewed thoughtfully, and ignored the dozens of lenses pointed at him. Then he looked off into the distance, over their heads, and spoke again—quieter this time, more serious.
"I never got to say goodbye to my father," he said, and an unusual note of sincerity rang in his voice. "I would have had questions for him. What did he think about the company he built? Was he ever in doubt? Or was he exactly the man they showed in the newsreels? That unyielding titan of industry?.."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air. The room grew quieter; the journalists froze, sensing that something important was about to happen.
"I saw… over there… American soldiers dying from the weapons I created to protect them," Tony continued, his gaze hardening. "And I realized… I realized I had become part of a system where no one is responsible for anything. Where death is just a line item in a profit report."
The silence became almost absolute. Only rare shutter clicks broke it. Everyone waited.
"Mr. Stark, what exactly happened there, in Afghanistan?" one of the journalists finally dared to ask, his voice echoing in the tense silence.
Tony slowly lifted his head, his gaze meeting the lens of the nearest camera. The smirk was gone. In its place was something new—a firm, cold determination.
"I had my eyes opened," he replied simply but weightily. He began to stand up, leaning on his left arm. The others followed suit. "I realized I can offer the world more than just things that blow up."
He stood before them—no longer the playboy, no longer the merchant of death. Someone else.
"Therefore," his voice took on a metallic hardness, "effective immediately… I am closing the weapons division of Stark Industries."
And then, the lightning struck.
The room exploded. Dozens of voices merged into an indecipherable roar. Journalists leaped from their seats, waving their hands, shouting questions, trying to scream over one another. Camera flashes strobed with doubled intensity, turning the hall into a flickering hell.
[DEAFENING ROAR OF THE CROWD: "WHAT?!", "Closing it?!", "How can you close it?!", "Mr. Stark, is this a joke?!", "What about the contracts?!", "What will happen to the stock?!", "Is this an official statement?!", "Have you lost your mind?!"]
On the TV screen I was watching, a red ticker for stock market news started running along the bottom: "Stark Industries (STK) shares plummeted 15% following Tony Stark's statement… The slide continues… Trading suspended…"
I saw Pepper Potts' face—shock, disbelief, eyes wide. She clearly wasn't prepared for this turn of events. She always understood Tony better than anyone, but this… this was beyond the pale. Rhodey stood with a stone face, but deep bewilderment and concern for his friend were readable in his eyes. Agent Coulson, standing a bit further away, maintained his signature inscrutable expression, but I noticed his jawline tighten slightly. He was clearly analyzing the situation, trying to understand how this move would affect… his bosses' interests. Fury was probably throwing a fit somewhere in the depths of S.H.I.E.L.D. right now.
Obadiah Stane, the bald, heavy-set partner of Tony's father, turned purple. He practically lunged toward Stark, trying to seize the initiative and save the sinking ship.
"Ugh… Let me assure you!" He tried to scream over the noise, stretching his lips into a fake smile. "What we just heard from Tony… it's… it's his personal opinion! We will certainly discuss this within the company! At the board of directors! And later… yes, yes, later we will make an official statement! Don't worry, everything is under control!"
But Tony wasn't listening to him anymore. He paid no mind to the roaring journalists, the panicking Obadiah, or the distraught Pepper. With that same inscrutable expression that contrasted so sharply with his usual manner, he turned and headed for the exit, plowing his way through the crowd with the help of security. He had dropped the bomb and walked away, leaving everyone else to sift through the fallout.
[NOISE INCREASES, SHOUTS, CAMERA CLICKS, SECURITY ATTEMPTING TO RESTRAIN THE CROWD]
The image on the screen changed—now a news anchor with a worried face was trying to summarize the sensational press conference. But I wasn't listening to her anymore.
"Here it is. It's started," I thought, leaning back against the sofa and tossing a handful of chips into my mouth.
"Closing the weapons division. Straight out of the canon… well, almost. In the movie, I think he announced it a bit later? Or did he? Dammit, so many versions… Doesn't matter. The main thing is the process is launched. Tony Stark is on the path to becoming Iron Man."
A wild thought flashed in my head: stocks. They crashed. That means soon, when Tony shows his armor to the world and demonstrates what he's capable of without weapons of mass destruction, they'll skyrocket again. Buy now, sell later—the classic scheme. If only I had a couple of spare millions… I could make a fortune. But…
I mentally tallied my finances. A bit over fourteen and a half thousand dollars after selling the gems and gold. Plus the uncut stones and the vault key in my inventory that I still needed to liquidate somehow. It was enough to live on, to buy materials for Peter, maybe even for a few "donations" to the System. But for serious stock market play, it was pocket change. Buying $14,000 worth of stock… Even if it grew two or three times (which wasn't a guarantee, given Stark's unpredictability and Stane's potential manipulations), the profit wouldn't be big enough to justify the risk and the headache of opening a brokerage account in the name of an underage orphan. And where would an orphan get that kind of money anyway? Too many questions, too much attention. Not now.
"Alright, John, don't pretend you're Warren Buffett," I smirked to myself. "Your path to wealth clearly doesn't lie through Wall Street, but through a shady Gacha lottery and selling artifacts from other worlds. Focus on the main thing."
I switched the channel. Another one was already running a replay of the conference highlights, interspersed with expert commentary and news headlines that seemed to be competing for volume.
"Daily Bugle" (an imaginary headline, of course, but I could practically hear J. Jonah Jameson's scream):
STARK HAS LOST HIS MARBLES! Mad Billionaire Sinks His Own Empire! A Threat to Our Security or Just an Idiot?! Read the Details!
"CNN" (ticker):
Shock on Wall Street: Stark's statement crashes the defense sector. Pentagon withholds comment. Experts predict economic chaos…
"Wired" (website):
Stark Closes the "Death Factory": What's Next? Future Tech or the Collapse of a Genius? Analysis of the consequences…
Yeah, Tony knew how to make an impact. The whole world would be discussing his decision now. And no one even suspects that the real sensation is still ahead. And that it will be made of a gold-titanium alloy.
I turned off the TV. Silence enveloped the room again, broken only by the barely audible rustle of pages—2B was still immersed in studying Superman's Kryptonian dilemmas. Tony Stark's decision to close the weapons division was… expected, but still powerful. It was the first loud chord in a symphony that was soon to erupt over this world. And I desperately lacked the instruments to conduct even my own part, let alone influence the whole orchestra.
The thought of the uselessness of my modest fourteen and a half thousand against the backdrop of the Stark Industries stock crash still caused some annoyance. Money. In this world, it solved if not everything, then very much. And I was catastrophically short on it. For serious upgrades for Peter, for my own gear (Black Widow's bracelets and a repulsor are good, but they still need to be repaired/charged/mastered), for the ability to act more freely without looking at every cent… Heck, even for the mundane ability to buy 2B normal clothes instead of letting her walk around in my old T-shirt.
"Stop whining, Smith," I checked myself. "You have the System. You have Gacha Points. And you have a chance."
I summoned the interface again. It was time to check the balance and decide if it was worth tempting fate one more time today.
My eyes immediately fell on the second page.
Page 2/3
CARD DRAW
Select Draw Type: [ General ] [ Marvel ]
Available Gacha Points (GP): 13
Monthly exchange ($1000 = 10 GP): Available in 8 days
Draw Options:
<-------------------------------------->
| [ Summon x1 ] |
| Cost: 1 GP / 1 |
| Free: [ Available (1) ] |
<-------------------------------------->
<-------------------------------------->
| [ Summon x10 ] |
| Cost: 10 GP |
Increased Chance!
<-------------------------------------->
Thirteen points. Ten left over from the last lucky roll, plus three daily bonuses accumulated over these days. Eight days until the next "donation." Thirteen… an unlucky number? Or the opposite—a sign that it was time to take a risk? I had ten points for one x10 roll. That would leave three for a rainy day.
The choice of pool this time was obvious. That morning failure with the General Gacha had killed any desire to experiment with spoons, stamps, and high schooler templates. I needed specific tools for a specific world. Marvel.
"Alright, System. Last run for today. Marvel pool. Increased chance. Don't let me down!"
I mentally switched the tab to "Marvel" and, with a racing heart, pressed the "[ Summon x10 ] (Cost: 10 GP)" button.
The interface exploded again into the familiar kaleidoscope. A spider, S.H.I.E.L.D., the Stark logo, Thor's hammer, Wolverine's claws… The images replaced one another at frantic speed under a heroic soundtrack. I felt the tension building. This was the last chance to get something worthwhile today. The wheel slowed down… stopped. Ten cards, face down, with the Marvel logo. The counter showed 3 GP remaining.
I took a deep breath. "First one's up..." A mental touch.
The card flipped, flashing with a bright, almost blinding purple light. Epic! Epic again! My heart leaped. The card depicted a young man with ruffled silver hair in a skin-tight blue-and-silver suit, frozen in a motion blurred by speed. Pietro Maximoff. Quicksilver.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver) (Template)
Type: Character Template (Assimilation/Summon)
Rarity: Epic
Origin: Marvel Universe (Earth-199999, Age of Ultron)
Description: Provides access to the template of Pietro Maximoff, a mutant (or a result of HYDRA's experiments with the Mind Stone?) possessing superhuman speed.
Upon Assimilation: Integrates into the user:
The ability to move and react at speeds significantly exceeding the sound barrier (potentially up to Mach 4-5+ at peak load).
Accelerated perception of time, allowing one to see the world in slow motion.
Increased stamina and metabolism to maintain speed.
Resistance to friction and the effects of airflow at high speeds.
Cons/Side Effects (Upon Assimilation): Impatience, hyperactivity, increased caloric need. Adaptation to the user's biology requires significant effort and may cause nervous system overload in the initial stages.
Upon Summoning: Materializes Pietro Maximoff (pre-Sokovia version). Possesses his own personality (impulsive, protective of his sister, initially distrustful), superspeed. Absolutely loyal to the Summoner (may see them as a new "family" or a reason to fight). Requires a lot of food and patience.
Note:"You didn't see that coming?" — Pietro Maximoff
"Quicksilver!"
I almost jumped off the couch. Superspeed! Real, extreme superspeed! This was… this changed everything! The ability to dodge attacks, land lightning-fast strikes, be in ten places at once… It was the perfect counterweight to the Goblin's brute force!
"Summon him? No… an impulsive teenager with superspeed is too much trouble. But to assimilate…"
The thought of impatience and hyperactivity was a bit concerning, but the potential benefits outweighed everything.
"This is it! Now this is a truly worthwhile Epic!"
The card went into the inventory, biding its time. Assimilating an Epic template would clearly require time and concentration. Speed isn't just about running fast. It's about seeing the world differently, thinking differently. It would require a total restructuring of perception. But the prospect… it was too tempting.
Encouraged by such a start, I flipped the second card. Common. A white glow. The card showed an image of… an egg. But not just any egg—an incredibly beautiful one, decorated with precious stones and gold. I recognized it—I'd seen reproductions in art books in my past life.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Imperial Coronation Fabergé Egg (Copy?/Original?)
Type: Item (Value/Antique/Art)
Rarity: Common
Origin: Earth (Russian Empire, 1897 / Alternative Reality?)
Description: An exact copy (or an original from a world where it didn't end up in the Armory Museum?) of the famous jeweled egg created by Karl Fabergé for Emperor Nicholas II in honor of his coronation. Made of gold, covered in translucent yellow guilloché enamel, decorated with gold eagles and green-gold leaves. Topped with a large portrait diamond, under which the date is visible. A surprise is hidden inside—a miniature, detailed copy of the 18th-century Imperial coach. Perfect condition. Represents colossal historical and jeweler's value. Easily liquidated through leading auction houses (Sotheby's, Christie's) or on the black market for an amount roughly calculated at $20,000,000 - $30,000,000.
Note:"Sometimes the most fragile things hold the biggest secrets… and are worth a fortune." — Felicia Hardy (Black Cat)
I froze, re-reading the description. Twenty to thirty million dollars. For ONE "Common" rarity card.
"Millions..."
My brain refused to believe it. This wasn't just a financial cushion; it was a whole mattress stuffed with platinum and diamonds!
"System, are you sure you aren't broken?!"
Selling such a thing wouldn't be easy… Wait. Not easy? What about Metamorph? My Legendary ability! I can become anyone! Any reputable collector, an inconspicuous millionaire, heck, even the director of Sotheby's himself if I have to! I can create the perfect persona for the sale. But… even so. Selling such a thing isn't just walking in off the street. You need a provenance legend for the artifact, you need connections, you need the right buyer or an auction house that won't dig too deep or, conversely, can confirm authenticity without attracting too much government attention. The black market? Too risky—you could get scammed or just shot for a haul like that. Metamorph solves the identity problem, but not the logistics and safety of a deal of this scale. Still, the mere fact of possessing such an asset… opened up entirely new horizons.
"Well, that's a twist..."
I reverently sent the Egg to the inventory.
Third card. Common again. An ancient manuscript covered in distinctive mirror handwriting.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Page from the "Codex Atlanticus" by Leonardo da Vinci
Type: Item (Value/Antique/Information)
Rarity: Common
Origin: Earth (Italy, Renaissance)
Description: An authentic folio from Leonardo da Vinci's "Codex Atlanticus," containing his notes and sketches. This specific page features detailed anatomical drawings of a human hand with commentary on the mechanics of movement and sketches for a hydraulic mechanism. The handwritten text is executed in mirror writing in Renaissance-era Italian. Good condition for its age (minor stains, scuffing on the edges). Represents immense historical and cultural value. Can be sold to collectors or museums for an amount around $3,000,000 - $5,000,000. Contains brilliant, if scientifically outdated, ideas.
Note:"Knowledge begins with wonder." — Leonardo da Vinci
"A da Vinci page..."
The excitement from the Egg was replaced by quiet admiration. To touch the genius of Leonardo… And again—millions of dollars.
"This isn't just luck anymore; it's a cornucopia!"
The thought of selling this page caused a slight pang of regret—I wanted to study it myself, decipher the mirror writing, delve into the genius's train of thought… but the money was more necessary.
"Maybe copy it first? Or scan it in high resolution?"
Yeah, that's what I'll do. And then—to the auction, under the guise of some eccentric art history professor. Into the inventory.
Fourth card. Common. A luxurious tiara, sparkling with diamonds and pearls.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Tiara of Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna (The Vladimir Tiara)
Type: Item (Value/Antique/Jewelry)
Rarity: Common
Origin: Earth (Russian Empire / Great Britain / Alternative Reality?)
Description: A famous tiara made by the house of Cartier for Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna, wife of Grand Duke Vladimir Alexandrovich. Consists of 15 interlaced platinum rings encrusted with old-cut diamonds, with large teardrop pearl pendants (in this version). The pearls can be replaced with emeralds (The Cambridge Emeralds). It is part of the British Crown jewels (in the primary reality), but this specimen is evidently from an alternative history or the past. Historical and jeweler's value is extremely high. Auction value—approximately $15,000,000 - $25,000,000.
Note:"Jewelry is good. But power is better." — Emma Frost (The White Queen)
"The Vladimir Tiara… Fifteen to twenty-five million..."
I'd already stopped being surprised. I just noted the fact.
"The 'Common' cards in the Marvel pool, apparently, are responsible for 'Earthly artifacts,' but with an absolutely insane value level. The System is clearly compensating for the lack of superpowers in these slots with pure gold… or diamonds."
Selling the tiara would be even harder than the Fabergé egg—it's too famous a piece, it would immediately raise questions for Interpol and British Intelligence even if the seller looked like an Arab Sheikh. But as collateral… or for a very specific deal with someone like Kingpin (if he's active yet)?
"Definitely keeping it. Maybe 2B or Gwen would go to a ball?"—a wild thought flashed through, but I immediately dismissed it. Into the inventory.
Fifth card. Common. A painting in an old frame depicting a biblical scene.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Painting "The Adoration of the Magi" (Lost da Vinci Work?)
Type: Item (Value/Antique/Art)
Rarity: Common
Origin: Earth (Italy, Renaissance / Alternative Florence?)
Description: A small painting (oil on wood) depicting the scene of the Magi worshipping the Christ Child. The style, composition, and execution technique (sfumato, attention to detail) strikingly resemble early works by Leonardo da Vinci; it is possibly one of his lost paintings or an unknown preparatory sketch for a larger canvas. Requires thorough art historical and technical expertise (X-ray, chemical pigment analysis) to confirm authenticity. If da Vinci's authorship is confirmed, the value could reach $80,000,000 - $120,000,000 and higher. Even as a work by an unknown master of the Florentine school of that era, it represents significant historical and artistic value.
Note:"Art is eternal… and very expensive." — Wilson Fisk (Kingpin)
"Another da Vinci? Or his school's?"
I whistled. Eighty to one hundred and twenty million? This was already moving beyond the boundaries of my comprehension.
"Alright, Smith, stay calm. Don't count the money until it's in the account. Selling THIS will be even harder than the Fabergé or the tiara. You need expertise, a flawless provenance… maybe through some shadowy art dealer like Fisk? Or… use it as a unique gift for someone very influential to secure their support?"
My thoughts raced.
"But the chance to make bank..."
I felt like Ali Baba stumbling into the cave of treasures, where instead of gold coins, there were world masterpieces. Into the inventory. Four Common cards—and a fortune exceeding the budget of some countries. My head was spinning from such numbers.
There were five cards left. And they were supposed to be Rare abilities related to technology, as promised by the roll's conditions. I calmed down a bit, expecting something more practical than eggs and paintings. I needed to bring my thoughts back down to earth, to pressing problems like the Goblin.
Sixth card. Rare. A blue glow. An image of a complex microchip surrounded by energy fields.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Technopathy (Basic Level)
Type: Ability (Passive/Active, Psionic/Technological)
Rarity: Rare
Origin: Marvel Universe (Earth-616, Mutant - Forge)
Description: Grants the user the basic ability for intuitive understanding and mental interaction with electronic and mechanical devices. Allows one to "feel" data and energy flows, the operation of mechanisms, diagnose malfunctions at a distance, access information from unprotected (or weakly protected) networks, and give simple mental commands to tech (on/off, change mode, start/stop process). Effectiveness depends on the complexity of the device and its level of protection. Does not grant full control over complex systems or AI. Requires concentration and practice to develop accuracy and range.
Note:"Machines… they sing to me. Sometimes they're off-key, but I can tune them." — Forge
"Technopathy!"
Just what I needed! Even a basic level was a huge plus.
"Understanding tech intuitively, controlling it mentally… this opens up a mass of possibilities! Hacking a security system? Disabling cameras? Starting a car without a key? It pairs perfectly with the mechanic skills from Toretto and my engineering knowledge!"
The ability activated. I felt a light hum from the working computer and the TV in standby mode—not a sound, but rather… an informational background, as if I could "hear" the flows of electricity. Interesting.
Seventh card. Rare. A stylized blueprint where complex mechanisms are assembled from simple parts, glowing from within.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Intuitive Ingenuity (Engineering)
Type: Ability (Passive, Mental/Technical)
Rarity: Rare
Origin: Marvel Universe (Earth-616, Genius Inventor - Tony Stark)
Description: Significantly enhances the intuitive understanding of the principles of operation, construction, and modification of any mechanisms and technologies, from simple to ultra-complex. Allows one to quickly find non-standard, elegant, and effective engineering solutions, adapt existing technologies for new tasks, and foresee potential problems and bottlenecks in a design even at the planning stage. Accelerates the process of learning new technologies and engineering disciplines, allowing one to grasp the essence on the fly. Does not replace fundamental knowledge but multiply-enhances the ability to apply it creatively.
Note:"Just give me a screwdriver, some wire, and five minutes. I'll build you anything. Maybe even a working teleporter. Or a toaster." — Tony Stark
"Intuitive Ingenuity!"
I almost laughed with joy. This was exactly the ability I had dreamed of!
"Enhances understanding, helps find solutions, accelerates learning… this is the perfect buff for any inventor! For both me and Peter! Now we'll be able to create gadgets much faster and more efficiently!"
Activated. I felt my thoughts become clearer, as if new neural pathways responsible for engineering logic had opened up in my head. I looked at the old TV and instantly realized how I could improve its circuitry using parts from… say, a microwave. Nonsense, of course, but the ease with which the solution came was impressive.
Eighth card. Rare. An image of an eye looking through layers of a disassembled mechanism, like an X-ray.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Reverse Engineering Mastery
Type: Ability (Passive/Active, Mental/Technical)
Rarity: Rare
Origin: Marvel Universe (Earth-616, Victor von Doom)
Description: Grants the user the ability to quickly and effectively analyze the device and operating principles of unfamiliar technologies by disassembling them (physically or mentally, through Technopathy or blueprint analysis) and recreating their functionality or copying key elements. Allows one to understand the logic of others' developments, find vulnerabilities, and adapt and improve copied technologies for their own needs. Effectiveness depends on the complexity of the technology, available information, and availability of necessary materials/tools for reproduction.
Note:"What man has created… let no god destroy." — Victor von Doom
"Reverse engineering!"
Another gem!
"Now I'll be able to not just fix Stark's repulsor, but understand how it works! And any other technology that falls into my hands! Goblin tech? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Maybe even 2B's Pod? This is the key to a rapid technological leap!"
Activated. I felt my ability to analyze complex systems strengthen, as if I could "see" not just the external form, but the internal structure and the logic of the connections.
Ninth card. Rare. A hand holding a tiny, almost invisible gear between its fingers.
CARD OBTAINED!
Name: Miniaturization Expertise
Type: Ability (Passive, Mental/Technical)
Rarity: Rare
Origin: Marvel Universe (Earth-199999, Scientist - Hank Pym)
Description: Provides a deep intuitive understanding of the principles and technologies of miniaturization. Allows for the effective reduction of the size of devices and mechanisms without significant loss of functionality or power, finding optimal solutions for the layout of microchips and power elements, and creating compact, light, and efficient designs. Assists in working with nanomaterials and micromechanisms.
Note:"Big problems often require small solutions. Very small." — Hank Pym
"Miniaturization!"
I smiled, imagining Peter's gadgets.
"This will definitely come in handy! Making web-shooters even more compact and inconspicuous? Creating a swarm of micro-sensors? Or… something for myself? Hidden weapons? Tools for the Metamorph?"
Tons of options! Activated. A sense of understanding appeared regarding how one could fit an elephant into a matchbox… well, or at least a mot—
<><><><><<><><><><<><><><><<><><><><
Read advaned Chapters on : patreon.com/Kaizo246
~ Evey 150 PS = Bonus Chapter
~ ush the Story forward with your [Power Stones]