Marvel - The Blood God

In his manor, Maverick said to Ivan, "Iron Man is officially born. How's your arc reactor coming along?"

"Give me another month, and I'll wipe the floor with him," Ivan grumbled angrily. Then he thought of something and asked, "Building armor requires a top weapons company. Do you have one?"

Maverick smiled. "Not yet, but soon. You'll be the company's director of weapons manufacturing and a shareholder."

"Then I'll be waiting." Ivan stood up, eager to get back to studying the arc reactor. He didn't want to be overshadowed by Tony Stark. The Vanko family was the best.

"Ivan, get me a miniature camera that big corporations can't detect. I need to collect some incriminating evidence," Maverick called after him. "It'd be better if it can transmit remotely. If not, it's okay; I'll retrieve the footage myself."

Ivan replied casually, "That's easy. I'll have it for you soon. I'm busy now, otherwise I'd create a virus to hack their surveillance—much more convenient."

"A camera will suffice, and not being discovered is the priority," Maverick said with a grin. These geniuses were truly exceptional, but even geniuses had to work for this tycoon.

Ivan waved and strode away. He could design hundreds of such gadgets in a day.

"Now that Iron Man's story has begun, it's time to acquire Oscorp," Maverick mused. He summoned Mercury, handed her a vial of red liquid, and said, "Give this to the research department. I want a detailed report."

"Yes, Blood God," Mercury nodded. After hollowing out the Rand Corporation, the research division of the Council of Blood was officially established. They were fully committed to studying artificial blood. Once successful, it would be significant for both vampires and humans.

Maverick added, "Also, inform James to infiltrate Oscorp thoroughly—whether by planting spies or buying information. I want detailed data on Oscorp: shareholder info, department structures, research projects—the more detailed, the better."

Mercury said, "He's already on it since he returned. I'll have him speed up."

"Good," Maverick nodded in satisfaction. Just then, his phone rang—it was Pepper Potts.

"You want to visit my manor the day after tomorrow? You're welcome. Wait, Tony's coming too? Can I refuse? Just kidding, you're both welcome."

As the saying goes, no one visits without a reason. Tony and Pepper were not just coming to see Maverick; they were interested in Stark Industries' shares.

"I spoke with Obadiah's two sons. They told me they're willing to sell you their shares of Stark Industries," Tony said, putting down his knife and fork and wiping his mouth. "Maverick, did you know Obadiah would die?"

"Yes, I knew," Maverick glanced at Tony. "As long as you won, he was bound to die—either by your hand or silenced by those pulling the strings behind the scenes."

Tony was a bit surprised by this answer. He thought Maverick would say something about his own involvement. He sighed, "Yes, as long as I won, he would die. Honestly, I can't understand why he did it. Did he really need more money?"

"Who ever thinks they have too much money?" Maverick shrugged.

Pepper smiled and asked, "Maverick, Obadiah owned quite a few shares. After you buy them, you'll become a major shareholder of Stark Industries."

Maverick knew Pepper was probing. He said, "Don't worry, I have no interest in Stark Industries. My target is Oscorp. When the time is right, I'll exchange my Stark shares for Oscorp's."

Hearing that Maverick wasn't interested, Tony breathed a sigh of relief. This guy was incredibly wealthy. After acquiring Obadiah's shares, it wouldn't be hard for him to take over.

But the fact that Maverick wasn't interested also irked Tony a bit. He said arrogantly, "Oscorp? The Oscorp whose stock price plummeted because of me?"

"Yes, the same Oscorp whose stock price dropped after you announced your full entry into the energy sector," Maverick said with a smile. "In fact, all energy-related companies' stocks are falling, not just Oscorp. It's just that Oscorp's drop is particularly severe—they had risen too fast recently."

"Investors know who's the king," Tony said proudly. "Those who invested in Stark Industries earlier have profited now. The Stark family never disappoints."

"Of course not, but there's an issue with sustainability," Maverick chuckled.

Tony got angry. If Pepper hadn't intervened, he would have argued with Maverick to see who lacked staying power.

"I want to buy Oscorp, so I can't short it. But if you're interested, you could make a fortune off it," Maverick suggested. "Oscorp's stock price will drop significantly soon."

Pepper said, "Really? With Oscorp's size, it's not hard for them to recover their stock price."

Maverick smiled, "General Larry, who was in charge of procurement at the Department of Defense, just retired. His successor doesn't have a good relationship with Oscorp."

"I see," Tony and Pepper suddenly understood. Oscorp's weapons were cutting-edge, and they relied heavily on Defense Department funding. If there's an issue with the DoD, their stock price will surely plummet.

"I'll think about it. If I make money, I'll give you 20% of the profits," Tony nodded. He gestured to Pepper, who took out two documents from her briefcase and handed them to Maverick.

Maverick glanced through them and smiled, "Special silicone technology and micro-battery patents? Tony, are you finally paying me back what you owe?"

"I don't owe you anything," Tony retorted. "Thank you for saving Pepper last time. I'll sell you these two technologies at cost."

"Alright, I need these. I'll take them," Maverick nodded. "After I finish dealing with the shares I have, if there are any leftovers, I'll sell them back to you at market price."

"Good," Tony agreed. He hesitated and then asked, "Maverick, what's S.H.I.E.L.D.'s relationship with me? Nick Fury has been hounding me lately—he even broke into my house and scared me half to death."

"Maybe he's infatuated with you," Maverick joked. "Your father worked for the Strategic Scientific Reserve—you know that, right?"

"Of course. It's his proudest achievement. He used to lecture me about Captain America—not often, only a thousand times." Tony said resentfully. The Captain was like the 'golden child' his father always compared him to.

Maverick continued, "S.H.I.E.L.D. evolved from the SSR. Your father, Howard Stark, and Agent Carter were its founders. Carter was even the former director."

Tony was stunned. "My dad founded S.H.I.E.L.D.? Why didn't I know?"

"There are many things you don't know," Maverick smiled. "Your father left many things with S.H.I.E.L.D., but they didn't return them to you. It's interesting—a highly trained spy master dying in a car accident? Seems unlikely, doesn't it?"

Maverick's words hit Tony hard. If his father was an ordinary man, dying in a car accident would be normal. But as a spy master and genius inventor, how could he die in a car accident along with his wife?

Something was definitely off.

Maverick raised his glass, "To Iron Man."

Tony clinked glasses absentmindedly, then stood up to leave. He wanted to investigate his parents' accident and S.H.I.E.L.D.

Maverick saw Tony and Pepper off. Watching their car drive away, he squinted slightly. The era of superheroes had officially begun.

And with the emergence of superheroes, supervillains and world-ending crises would follow.

In the Marvel world, it's a paradise for heroes but hell for civilians.

Of course, for the rich, it's heaven.

Oscorp's headquarters was also on Manhattan Island. In the chairman's office, Norman Osborn scowled at the company's plummeting stock prices over the past few days.

"Damn Tony, damn Iron Man." Norman cursed.

Tony Stark was recognized as a super genius, and now he'd become Iron Man. When he announced that Stark Industries would fully enter the energy sector, the stock prices of all energy companies fell—only Stark Industries soared.

But what bothered Norman even more was the newly appointed General Slocum at the Department of Defense. He didn't get along with his predecessor and had been suppressing projects initiated before.

Unfortunately, Oscorp's Human Enhancement Program was one of them.

General Slocum had issued an ultimatum: produce a working human enhancement serum soon, or he'd allocate funds to support Hammer Industries' armored suit project. Since Iron Man appeared, armor was all the rage.

Norman exhaled, called in Dr. Stromm, who was in charge of the Human Enhancement Program, and asked, "When can we start human trials?"

"Norman, we can't. In the last mouse trial, one mouse showed extreme aggression and violent tendencies." Dr. Stromm shook his head repeatedly. "I think we need to re-examine the formula."

"Only one mouse reacted that way; the others were fine. Don't overthink it," Norman said. "Dr. Stromm, start human trials immediately. I'll use this project to stabilize the stock price; otherwise, the board will have issues."

Although Norman founded Oscorp, he didn't own a large share. It's a common problem in many big companies—rapid development requires continuous fundraising, which dilutes shares.

Dr. Stromm continued to object, "Norman, the protocols for human trials aren't complete. It'll take time. Also, we haven't started recruiting volunteers."

"Time is running out." Norman paced back and forth. "Just go and complete the procedures as quickly as possible."

Dr. Stromm sighed in relief and left. Norman glared at the closed door, snorted, and called his confidant, the head of the R&D department, Nels Van Adder.

Norman instructed, "Find a shell company—a pharmaceutical plant where we can conduct experiments privately without being traced back to us. As for test subjects, grab some homeless people off the streets. No one cares about them; their lives are worthless."

Without hesitation, Nels nodded. "Understood."

Norman thought for a moment and asked, "By the way, how's Dr. Connors' research on the lizard serum?"

Nels replied, "He says he's close."

"Still 'close'. It's been over ten years, and he's always 'close'. How much money has he burned through?" Norman fumed. The reason he was so desperate to develop the Human Enhancement Serum and the Lizard Serum wasn't just stock prices; the Osborn family had a genetic disease, and he needed genetic medicine to cure himself.

Norman shouted, "Tell him I don't have that kind of time. If he can't produce the Lizard Serum in three months, he's out—along with his research."

"Yes, Mr. Osborn," Nels nodded and left. Norman slammed his fist on the table but suddenly felt short of breath. He hurriedly pulled out a pill bottle from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed a tablet.

Norman calmed down. He knew he didn't have much time and had to develop a viable serum by any means necessary.

Clenching his fists, Norman resolved, "Even if I die, I can't let Harry suffer the same fate. I must develop the perfect serum and give Harry a full life."

Unbeknownst to Norman, everything that happened in his office was quietly recorded by a hidden camera. Every three days, the camera was replaced with a new one.

Although Oscorp Tower was heavily guarded, no one noticed—because the person doing it was just a drop of blood.

"Even though Ivan made a remote camera, I prefer to replace it myself for safety," Maverick said, inserting the camera's storage into his computer. Watching the footage, he smiled slightly. "So the old Goblin isn't using himself for human trials. Makes sense—he's a billionaire; why would he risk himself? In the movies, it's just for plot convenience."

"Old Goblin, your position as chairman will soon be mine."

Time passed, and June arrived. The streets were filled with people in cool summer attire—a delightful sight.

This month, the hottest topic was superheroes—but not Tony Stark. It was Spider-Man swinging between skyscrapers. Countless newspapers and TV shows talked about him; he was all the rage.

"The Daily Bugle is so annoying. They're bad-mouthing Spider-Man again, claiming the criminals he catches are ones he hired himself."

In an outdoor café in Hell's Kitchen, radio show host Trish Walker looked at the newspaper and grumbled.

"It's not the first day the Daily Bugle slanders Spider-Man. If you buy it every day to read, you're actually helping them continue," Jessica Jones said, leaning back in her seat. She hated going out during the day and even more so sitting outside drinking coffee. She'd rather be at a bar.

"This is someone else's copy; I wouldn't spend money on the Daily Bugle. They should just go bankrupt." Trish snorted. She looked at Jessica and said excitedly, "Jessica, don't you want to be a superhero? You have powers."

"No, absolutely not." Jessica shook her head vehemently. "Last time I tried helping someone, I ran into that Purple Man. If I hadn't escaped quickly, who knows what would've happened."

Trish was disappointed. She felt restless. If she had Jessica's abilities, she'd definitely become a superhero and be admired by the whole city, just like Tony Stark and Spider-Man.

"Trish, being a superhero isn't as great as you think," Jessica said. "You should drop this idea. Also, stop dragging me here for coffee. No matter how long you stare at that teahouse across the street, they won't let you in. It's members only."

Hearing this, Trish couldn't help but glance at the 'Dragon Subduing Teahouse' opposite them. She said, exasperated, "Why is a teahouse membership-only? Aren't they afraid of going out of business?"

Jessica replied, "How should I know? Trish, all that kung fu stuff is fake. And that old lady you saw might not even work there—she could've just been passing by."

Just as Jessica was speaking, Trish suddenly stood up, eyes shining with excitement. "I knew it. That old lady is from the teahouse. I'm going to ask her to teach me kung fu."

With that, Trish grabbed her bag and hurried across the street to the teahouse. In broken Chinese, she called out to the old lady inside, "Master. Master."

"Hmm?" Madame Gao was a bit surprised. She walked over slowly, opened the door, and asked, "Who are you, and why are you calling me 'Master'?"

Trish said excitedly, "My name is Trish. I want to become your disciple and learn kung fu."

"I see. I'm sorry, but I don't accept disciples," Madame Gao replied, shaking her head. She waved her hand and turned to go back inside.

Trish panicked and tried to enter, but the suited security guard blocked her. She had tried to sneak in several times before.

Unable to get in, Trish shouted at the door, "Master, I really want to learn kung fu. I'm willing to pay a lot."

Madame Gao shook her head. How could kung fu be bought with money? Besides, did she lack money? Back then, she had sacks full of cash.

Seeing Madame Gao ignoring her, Jessica walked over and said impatiently, "Trish, she's a fraud. You don't need to beg her."

Madame Gao continued to ignore them. She just wanted to spend her remaining days in peace and perhaps return to K'un-Lun someday.

Unwilling to give up, Trish tried to force her way in, but the security guard angrily shoved her back, nearly knocking her over.

Jessica was furious. She shoved the guard hard on the shoulder. It was as if he'd been hit by a motorcycle; he flew back and crashed to the ground.

Madame Gao turned back at the commotion and looked at Jessica. "So, you're also trained," she remarked.

"Trained? Tell my friend the truth—you're a fraud." Jessica shouted as she approached. Madame Gao shook her head, lightly tapped Jessica's chest with her palm, and Jessica stumbled back, falling to the ground.

"The owner of this teahouse doesn't like people barging in," Madame Gao said. "If I were you, I'd be wiser."

Jessica sat on the ground, bewildered. The old lady hadn't even touched her, so why did she fall? It didn't make sense.

Trish's eyes lit up. She exclaimed, "Master, I want to learn kung fu from you."

Madame Gao didn't want to accept any disciples, nor did she want them bothering her again. She decided to make it difficult. "If you wish to learn, that's fine. Kneel here for a day, and I'll accept you as my disciple."

"Kneel here?" Trish was stunned. She was a celebrity, after all. Kneeling in public would be big news.

"Trish, forget her. Let's go back. I'll find someone to tear this place down tomorrow." Jessica got up, fuming.

At that moment, Maverick emerged from the back and asked in surprise, "Who's planning to demolish my teahouse? Hey, Jessica Jones?"

Jessica looked at the man and asked suspiciously, "Do you know me?"

"Of course I do," Maverick smiled. "I saved your life, and not only did you not repay me, you even broke my window."

Jessica finally recognized him. She stepped back in horror. "You—you're the man in yellow."

"Man in yellow? What man in yellow?" Trish was confused. Jessica knew the owner of this teahouse? Why didn't she say so earlier?

"Man in yellow? Well, I was wearing yellow that day," Maverick chuckled. He turned to Madame Gao. "What's going on?"

Madame Gao explained the situation. Maverick nodded. "Drive away the blonde, but bring Jessica inside as a server to pay off her debt."

Madame Gao agreed and walked toward Jessica with her cane. Jessica was alarmed and tried to run, but Madame Gao tapped her on the back. Suddenly, Jessica felt numb all over and collapsed. Madame Gao grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the back.

Jessica was powerless to resist. She shouted, "Trish, help me."

"Jessica." Trish was frantic. She tried to rush in, but Maverick signaled the security guard to stop her. He said calmly, "Don't worry. I'll release her once she pays off her debt."

Trish yelled, "How much does she owe? I'll pay for her."

"Not much—a broken window and a life saved. The window can be repaid with a few days' work. As for saving her life, she can work off that debt over a few years," Maverick said.

"Why don't you just keep her for twenty years? How is this different from fraud or kidnapping?" Trish retorted angrily.

Maverick smiled but didn't respond. Truth be told, it did seem like he was abducting a girl.

Trish had an idea and said, "I can help her pay it back. You know who I am, right? If I work part-time at your store, it'll definitely attract more customers."

Maverick chuckled. "Do you think I care about customers?"

Trish was speechless. A members-only teahouse wouldn't care about customer numbers.

At that moment, a nervous voice came from beside her. "Excuse me, is this the Dragon Subduing Teahouse?"

Trish turned to see an awkward-looking, disheveled man standing nearby. She frowned, about to say something, but Maverick approached and extended his hand. "Mr. Max, I've been waiting for you."

Max Dillon had never been treated so kindly, especially by someone so well-dressed and mannered. He shook Maverick's hand, flattered. "Hello, I'm Max. You called me. What's this about?"

"Let's go inside and talk," Maverick gestured for Max to follow him.

Seeing that such a weirdo could enter while she couldn't, Trish was annoyed.

"It's always like this—others easily get what I want. Hmph, so it's about kneeling? Fine, I'll kneel." Trish gritted her teeth. Of course, she wouldn't kneel as she was; she was a celebrity, albeit a somewhat faded one.

Trish went back, changed into colorful clothes, covered her face, grabbed a camera and some food, and returned to the teahouse entrance. She set up the camera and knelt dramatically at the door.

Passersby were a bit surprised, but seeing the camera, they didn't pay much attention. It was either some weird show or performance art. In New York, such things weren't unusual.

Trish thought proudly, "You want me to kneel for 24 hours? Fine. I'll definitely learn kung fu and become a superhero even more popular than Iron Man or Spider-Man."

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