radicalducati Chapter 12 The Coming Shock
Chapter 12 The Coming Shock
Chapter 12 The Coming Shock
Hermann Schulz rolled over on his worn-out mattress. This might be the last time he slept in this bed—regardless of whether his plan succeeded or not, he wouldn't have a good ending, either dying a violent death in the street or decades behind bars.
But so what? As long as the whole world, no, as long as all of New York remembers the name Herman Schultz, that's enough.
As morning light streamed through the grimy window, Herman had already bought a two-dollar burger from the downstairs burger joint. The burger was cheap, but the price was that it tasted awful; the cheap patty and hard bread slices chewed like sawdust. However, he had no right to complain about the burger's taste. The burgers here were specifically for the poor people of Harlem; the more expensive burgers were simply unaffordable for them.
The rusty iron gate of the abandoned construction site creaked in the wind as it was furtively pushed open. Herman lifted the corroded manhole cover and skillfully slipped into Manhattan's intricate sewer system. In the darkness, the squeaking of rats and the heavy thud of his footsteps created an eerie duet. He followed the sewers, arriving once again at Otto's underground warehouse. The air still reeked of a mixture of engine oil and mold. The moment the door opened, three eerie green electronic eyes lit up in the darkness. A mechanically synthesized electronic voice echoed strangely through the sewers.
"You arrived earlier than the agreed time."
"I don't have the patience to wait any longer, has the item arrived?"
Hermann impatiently brushed the cobwebs off his sleeve, only to be met with a piercing mechanical laugh. Two mechanical claws emerged from the shadows, slamming the bulging package onto the metal platform, the parts clanging together with a crisp sound.
"The big boss is also very interested in getting rid of that spider," Otto's electronic eyes flashed. "It was delivered last night, not a single piece missing."
Herman casually examined the expensive gold-titanium alloy parts, saying, "I ordered controlled materials, and they arrived so quickly. Who exactly is this 'big boss'?"
"Isn't this what you asked for? Why don't you believe it yourself?"
"Just out of curiosity."
The mechanical claw, which was about to retract, paused in mid-air, then suddenly stabbed in front of Herman, almost touching the tip of his nose.
"Want to know? Why not go to Hell's Kitchen and ask for yourself?"
Hermann understood, and a dry laugh escaped his throat.
"Wilson Fisk, haha, the infamous Kingpin... No wonder, he must have ordered a huge amount of alien technology weapons from you, right?"
"I only care about business. I don't care what my customers do with my products."
"I heard he's been very busy lately, it's related to some... demon."
Herman saw that Otto remained silent and decided not to make a fool of himself. After confirming that everything was in order, he picked up the package and prepared to leave. However, just as he was about to leave, Otto stopped him with an extended mechanical claw.
"As I said, you could actually complete your design in my lab. I admire talented young people like you."
"No, thanks anyway."
Herman declined Otto's invitation: "My equipment is so powerful that the entire sewer system couldn't withstand it. Believe me, I've tried it."
"The Midtown Bank building? That's truly a masterpiece."
Otto's eerily electronic laugh continued: "Alright, then I'll look forward to your moment to shine. Hopefully, it won't be too long."
"You won't have to wait long."
Herman took the package and left. Logically, the New York police should have already started pursuing him, but he slept at home all night without any news. As he left, he noticed that the New York police hadn't even bothered to arrest him. Either his underlings were keeping quiet, or the police simply looked down on him as a "small fry."
If it's the latter, then they are very wrong.
Back in the long-abandoned, unfinished building, Herman pulled out his old welding torch and other equipment from his days as a mechanic and got to work. The welding torch emitted a blinding blue light. Herman modified the gloves and elbow pads of hockey gear into weapon bases, with wires of different colored insulation winding like veins along the arm guards. He directly welded several parts salvaged from an old-fashioned horror launcher onto it. Next to the pliers were bundles of cut wires, the copper wires intertwined. He bit through the insulating tape and wrapped the spliced wires together.
As the setting sun cast long shadows, Hermann wiped the sweat from his face with his right hand, which was covered in black cotton glove. He raised his left hand, having donned the new generation of the Horror Launcher. As the wiring of the battery system he had designed was completed, the indicator light flashed green.
He slowly clenched his fist, the indicator light changed from green to yellow, and in tense anticipation, Hermann threw a punch with his left hand.
The indicator light changed from yellow to red.
A piercing shriek kicked up a cloud of dust, revealing a spotless trail in the long-abandoned stairwell. Simultaneously, a loud bang echoed as Hermann was slammed against the wall by the force of the impact.
"Cough cough cough, cough, ha... Hahahaha! I did it! I did it!"
Now, all that's needed is a matching suit of armor, and everything will be complete. That's exactly what Herman needs to do next. The whole bag of gold-titanium alloy that Iron Man uses for his armor shell is his source of confidence. Herman looked at his design drawings. It would probably take about a week to complete the right-hand blaster and the entire suit of armor.
"Then I'll let you be arrogant for another week, Spider-Man."
Meanwhile, unnoticed by both Herman and Peter, the Avengers' investigation into Spider-Man's identity was ongoing. In the president's office at Osborn Industries, Iron Man Tony Stark held a less-than-friendly meeting with Norman Osborn, the president of Osborn Corporation.
Norman Osborn wasn't much older than Tony Stark, but he looked much more mature and composed. His slicked-back brown hair and dark green suit created a stark contrast to Stark, who was used to wearing a T-shirt under his suit jacket.
"Anthony, it's been a long time."
"It's been a long time, Osborne."
Tony Stark actually disliked Norman Osborne, whose meticulously combed slicked-back hair shimmered in the sunlight like the scales of some cold-blooded animal. He was somewhat like Obadiah from the old Stark Enterprises—a pure, Edison-esque businessman.
"When I first heard your invitation to meet, I thought Stark Industries was planning to enter the biotechnology field. Thank goodness I don't need to compete with you."
"I've already handed the company over to Pei-po, and unless there's something absolutely necessary, I'm not paying much attention to it right now."
Tony casually steered the conversation away from business, and Norman Osborne seemed to have no intention of discussing the topic in detail. Instead, he raised a champagne glass to Tony and asked, "So, when are you getting married?"
"What?"
"Getting married, officially starting a family. Having my own children, those were the happiest years of my life..."
Norman said with a touch of emotion, then looked at Tony: "I'm about your age, Anthony. We're both over forty, but you don't have any kids yet."
"I... Pepper and I aren't thinking about marriage yet." Tony truly never expected to be pressured into marriage even though he no longer had any elders. "We've only just begun, and many things are still undecided... Let's get back to what we're talking about. Do you know Spider-Man?"
Norman Osborn had no idea that Tony's true purpose was related to Spider-Man, so he smiled and asked, "I've heard a little about it, what's up?"
"I was thinking... Hank discovered that the spiderweb structure he used matched the experimental results of one of your former employees, Richard Parker. I'm here to find out about him."
"I'm afraid I can't help you anymore." Norman didn't try to hide anything: "But Richard left me five years ago, and his experimental results have been taken over by someone else. Even if you ask me about Spider-Man, I can only say that I don't know if it's Richard."
Whether Richard Parker's death was an internal S.H.I.E.L.D. secret or something Ant-Man happened to remember, Norman's reaction is quite reasonable.
"So... your research hasn't yielded any results in the past few years?"
"No results at all, only some mutated spiders were created. Six months ago at the Osborn Technology Show, an accident caused the glass in that exhibition area to break, and the exhibits escaped and are now missing..."
It was as if a window had been opened in a dark room; both men were stunned, and then Norman Osborne smiled.
"If you're looking for Spider-Man, I really don't have a single clue."
"I see."
Tony shook Norman's hand and strode away. As he left Norman Osborn's office, Jarvis's comment came through the miniature earpiece in his ear: "Your behavior just now was not in accordance with social etiquette, sir."
"When have I ever followed that stuff?" Tony muttered to himself as he walked.
"Jarvis, open the satellite imagery, find the date of the Osborne Technology Show, and upload all the data for everyone to the cloud."
"Green Goblin," Norman Osborn commanded, and Osborn Industries' own AI began operating in response: "Enter the keyword, Richard Parker."
The searches on both sides were conducted almost simultaneously, and almost simultaneously, they both returned the same name.
[Keywords found: Richard Parker.]
Search results obtained: Peter Benjamin Parker, search reason: immediate family relationship, father and son.
"Shock" is a pun in English; "horror" is a euphemism for "frightening." While "shocking" would be a better pun, it wouldn't be as cool as "frightening."
(End of this chapter)