Chapter 383: The Scientist’s Fury

As usual, Solomon dismissed any suggestion that he might have psychological issues, and Root didn't press the matter. To her, completing the tasks assigned by the AI was paramount, and the Immortal City was merely a waypoint on her journey. Once her work here was done, the AI would provide her with a fake identity and sufficient funds to blend into human society seamlessly.

Solomon, for his part, had no interest in managing these details. In a world where everything was connected to the internet, the machine could handle any matter related to human systems with ease.

Maya Hansen greeted Root enthusiastically, having looked forward to her arrival for some time. However, Solomon privately cautioned Maya about her new colleague.

"Root is a genuine lunatic," Solomon said, gesturing toward the room where Root was currently working. "Remember that holographic projection? She's treating it like an altar and having a conversation with her so-called god. She's a martyr, a fanatic—there's no reasoning with someone like that. While Root is here, I'm keeping the druids out of sight. Call them and give them a few days off. I've already paid them generously; they can enjoy things they've never had before."

Maya waved off his concerns. "That AI practically is a god. A cyber god paired with a cyber lunatic—what could be more fitting?"

"Just make sure no one else goes into my study," Solomon said. "That room is for you alone. Understood?"

"You're such a nag. It's my room too."

"Uh-huh. By the way, I've got a report here," Solomon said, pulling a crumpled file from his dimensional pouch. The brown envelope, emblazoned with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s black logo, bore the word "CONFIDENTIAL" repeated three times for emphasis. He flipped to the first page. "This is about the Centipede Soldiers. Apparently, they're injecting people with a mixture of your Extremis virus, Chitauri metal, and a subpar version of the Super Soldier serum derived from Steve Rogers. Coulson slipped me this file."

"Are you serious? That mix sounds like a recipe for instant explosions!" Maya snatched the document, her nose almost touching the paper as she scrutinized it.

"Do they think my Extremis virus is some kind of toy? The real strength of Extremis lies in its ability to rewrite genetic material. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have taken this job in the first place! Do you have any idea what I sacrificed to stabilize Extremis—"

"Yeah, you slept with Stark."

"Don't bring that up. You have no idea how awkward that was." She kept reading as she spoke. "I didn't expect the combination of the Super Soldier serum and Extremis to yield such promising results. Extremis lowers the receptor threshold for the serum, but the stability gets even worse. As for the Chitauri metal, I can't see how that's useful. If these Centipede Soldiers haven't exploded, it means someone enhanced the virus's stability during testing. Look at this data!"

She jabbed at the document, her finger racing over the densely packed text and twisting graphs. Solomon noticed the faint scratches her nails left on the paper, like claw marks on a sofa. "This isn't my data. Someone used a different method to stabilize Extremis!"

"They used serum from a pyrokinetic," Solomon explained with a shrug. "Nature's optimal solution."

"Shit! I've spent thirteen years trying to achieve this, and they figured it out with a single pyrokinetic? That's such bullshit!" Maya's frustration boiled over as she waved the file around, creating a gust in the corridor. Her expression turned dark, and Solomon had no doubt that if the researchers responsible were in front of her, she'd sink her teeth into them. "Damn it! They used my work and stumbled on a solution they don't even understand! This is an insult to me and to science itself! Those researchers are garbage!"

"Maya…"

"If you'd let me use heat-resistant cells from hellspawn and combine them with Extremis—"

"Maya, I've told you before: I'm not interested in that kind of crude experimentation. Your Extremis virus is powerful and important, but in this project, it's just a tool—a means to rewrite DNA, to precisely cultivate artificial organs. Remember, our enemies aren't human. Heaven, hell, extradimensional entities, black magic creatures—they're our real foes. We need soldiers with powers that surpass human limits to crush those enemies."

"Fine, fine, I get it." Maya seemed to calm down, though her annoyance lingered. She slapped the file against Solomon's chest. "That antidote Coulson wants? It doesn't exist. Once Extremis is injected, the subject's DNA is altered. Unless I have the original DNA samples and rewrite each base pair one by one, creating an antidote is impossible—and even then, it's a monumental task. If anyone tried to create a universal cure, the most likely outcome is that every subject would develop acquired Down syndrome."

"I was just asking. Don't take it to heart. Let Coulson worry about it—I'll tell him there's no cure," Solomon said with a chuckle. "Take the day off and go shopping with Root. You know my card's PIN; it's the one in the drawer."

Maya exhaled deeply. "What about you?"

"Me?" Solomon glanced at his schedule and a gift from Bayonetta. "In about three minutes, I'll start studying today's new spells—evocation today, with a review of yesterday's necromancy. Once Fury delivers the death row inmates, you can begin your experiments. Meanwhile, I'll use the failures as material for necromantic research. I've been eager to start the Putrid Cyst spell for ages."

"What's that?"

"Plague. Plague is one of the ultimate tools of necromancy. You learn plague-related spells right at the start of necromantic studies. Remember when I explained how necromancy involves manipulating positive and negative energy? Kamar-Taj mystics are naturally attuned to these energies, which is why we're also susceptible to the dark dimensions, hell, and the abyss. That's how some become dark sorcerers wielding necromancy. But this school of necromancy is different—it revolves around wielding corruption."

Solomon's lips curled into a slight grimace. "Of course, few people study this path. Necromancy is hard, smelly, and unpopular. It involves digging up corpses and risking biological hazards. It lacks flashy explosions, dazzling summons, or mind-bending illusions. Unless you're a goth punk with a taste for the macabre, it's not appealing. Still, if I make progress in necromancy, I might be able to help you."

"You're so considerate."

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