300 gems = bonus chapter
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Taran Industries.
The sprawling underground test site had been entirely repurposed into a vast, state-of-the-art laboratory.
Clutching the magic crystal John had bestowed upon him, Orlov attempted to enter the laboratory, only to find himself unexpectedly barred. He gestured with a sweep of his hand, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I have never encountered a company that constructs a laboratory specifically designed to lock out its own chief executive officer."
Unwilling to be deterred, he extended his hand and pressed his palm against the fingerprint scanner.
A synthesized voice announced, "Beep. No permission."
At this juncture, Orlov was rendered utterly speechless. He began to pound forcefully on the high-strength, bulletproof glass. "Hey, you stylish fellow in there, open the door!"
Ivan, situated within the laboratory, spared him a glance before reluctantly pressing the switch to grant access.
"You cannot conduct yourself in this manner; this is my company!" Orlov strode in, his anger palpable, pointing an accusatory finger at Ivan as he exclaimed, "I provided the facility, the equipment, and the funding! You are obligated to show me respect; do you understand?"
Ivan, casually chewing on a toothpick, mumbled with an air of complete indifference, "I work for Wick."
This declaration effectively silenced Orlov, who could only retort in exasperation, "I am his partner!"
"You are mistaken," Ivan stated as he pulled at the wires connected to a newly fabricated piece of metal equipment, meticulously installing the other end onto an imposing oval-shaped machine that stood over two meters tall. "I work for John Wick."
"And you," Ivan asserted, forcefully slamming the plug into its socket, "you are associated with Watson Wick."
"Very well," Orlov conceded, attempting to rein in his mounting frustration, "at the very least, inform me what you have expended over five hundred million on from the company accounts. This way, I can ensure I am not arrested when filing taxes with the Internal Revenue Service."
"You can ascertain that now." Ivan picked up a rubber mallet and used it to firmly hammer the plug into place. A faint smile touched his lips as he grumbled, "This particular component has been manufactured slightly too large."
Only then did Orlov finally direct his full attention to the elaborate apparatus connected by a dense network of wires. Through the person-sized glass panel in the center, he could discern a metallic visage.
"What is that?" he inquired, pointing towards the oval charging bay. "You made Captain America?"
"This is mine," Ivan declared, placing a large hand on the back of Orlov's head, compelling him to turn his gaze in the opposite direction. He then indicated the reactor, which occupied over three meters of the test site and emitted a vibrant purple luminescence. "That is yours."
Orlov, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort from his twisted neck, regarded the reactor with eyes that shone with fascination. "It is truly beautiful."
Walking over slowly, he extended a hand as if to touch it, but then a thought occurred to him, and he hesitated. "It will not emit radiation, will it? I mean, akin to a nuclear power plant?"
Ivan let out a hearty laugh, strode over, and took Orlov's bag. He selected a magic crystal from within and carefully placed it into the designated recess in the center of the reactor. Immediately, the massive machine whirred to life. The purple light it emanated intensified, and a powerful surge of energy was transmitted through the numerous connected wires into the charging bay.
In an instant, the oval charging bay illuminated like a colossal light bulb. The white light was intensely dazzling, blinding even, compelling Orlov to shield his eyes with his hand.
Ivan, who had come prepared, retrieved a pair of sunglasses, put them on, and cheered with unbridled enthusiasm, "Yes! Baby!"
"It is going to explode!" Orlov shouted in alarm.
"No! It will not!" Ivan proclaimed, his voice brimming with confidence.
A sharp cracking sound suddenly pierced the air amidst the immense light. Ivan's triumphant smile froze.
"I believe I heard something." Orlov, still unable to see clearly, asked with uncertainty.
"Yes, I heard it too. Run!"
The charging bay emitted another crisp, fracturing sound. Ivan, pushing the still-blinded Orlov ahead of him, scrambled towards the exit. The tremendous electrical energy coursing through the system was proving too much for the charging bay he had meticulously designed. It was important to note that Ivan's design specifications intended for the charging bay to withstand the power output equivalent to ten aircraft carriers. However, the new reactor was performing with unexpected efficacy. Ivan surmised this was related to the installation of a larger magic crystal. The massive energy transmission had effectively transformed the charging bay into a volatile, glowing bomb.
Running into the blast-proof safe room, Ivan pulled open a narrow gap in the heavy door, thrust a pair of earplugs into Orlov's hand, and roared, "Put these on, or you will rupture your eardrums!" After uttering this warning, he inserted his own earplugs and gazed towards the charging bay with a fervent, almost manic excitement gleaming in his eyes. "God is coming."
Orlov, at this point, could only comply, though he inwardly grumbled about Ivan's failure to prepare a pair of sunglasses for him as well. The blinding light persisted for a full half minute. Cracks, resembling a spreading spiderweb, appeared across the cabin door of the charging bay.
With a deafening bang, the cabin door shattered. Within lay an armor of bright, silver metal, its chest glowing with a diffused purple light. As the charging process continued, the purple hue intensified, becoming even more dazzling. Then, the light abruptly contracted, and the operating reactor gradually began to calm.
Boom!
Reaching its critical threshold, the charging bay exploded. The ensuing shockwave, a powerful surge of air, slammed into the blast-proof room. The entire company building shuddered violently, and from the ground floor upwards, glass shattered in a cascading wave, like a grand, destructive fireworks display. Screams and shouts of alarm rose and fell throughout the facility.
None of this seemed to outwardly perturb Ivan. He was thrown backward by the air blast within the confines of the blast-proof room, colliding with a shelf, his head ringing from the impact. Orlov was not faring much better; he was no longer a young man, and he lay on the ground groaning, feeling as if his very bones were on the verge of disintegrating.
After a few minutes, Ivan managed to get to his feet. He removed his sunglasses; a piece of shrapnel had shattered one lens and was now embedded in it. The force of the flying debris carried by the explosion's shockwave was no less potent than that of bullets. Had the material of his sunglasses not been so robust, his eyeballs would likely have burst.
"God…" Orlov turned over with considerable difficulty. "I genuinely want to send you to Iraq to serve as a human shield." As a man of Slavic descent, Orlov had never encountered any of his fellow countrymen as stubbornly resilient, or perhaps as recklessly daring, as this particular individual.
Ivan stood up and rubbed his lower back. He had initially intended to assist Orlov, but upon hearing his remark, he simply stepped directly over the man obstructing his path and opened the door to exit. Fortunately, the blast-proof room had been constructed with sufficient thickness; otherwise, with an explosion of this magnitude, Taran Industries might very well have lost its Chief Executive Officer.
"Can you not offer me some assistance?" Orlov was full of complaints, finally managing to struggle to his feet after a few attempts. He leaned against the door and was immediately burned by the still-hot metal. He stared blankly at the scene outside; the original underground laboratory was essentially obliterated. It had been renovated from a former weapons test site and possessed ample space, but now the yellow soil covering the ground had been completely blown away.
The chaotic air currents generated by the explosion still swirled within the vast space, thick with dust and rendering visibility almost nonexistent. He could only grope his way forward, bit by bit. He swore to himself that if he did not dismiss this man upon getting out, he would personally lick Ivan's shoes!
"Is anyone there?" he shouted loudly. However, apart from the two of them, no one else had clearance to enter this restricted area.
He stumbled forward through the enveloping dust, muttering under his breath, "This time, even if John intercedes on your behalf, I will show no leniency!" He could not discern his direction, and after walking for a few minutes, he encountered someone.
"Hey, you, do you happen to know where the exit is?" he yelled at the blurry outline before him.
The figure slowly turned around. Orlov walked over and reached out to touch the person's stomach. "My God, are you a basketball player?" This individual was clearly taller than he initially appeared. Reaching out further, his hand met a cold, metallic sensation, which Orlov found somewhat peculiar. Looking more closely, a bright silver armor came into view. The armored figure bore a resemblance to a Destroyer, standing two meters tall, with a body constructed entirely of alloy. The reactor on its chest glowed with a vibrant purple light.
Orlov's expression was one of utter stupefaction.
The armored figure raised its hand, a depression opening in its palm as blue-white light began to accumulate within. Aiming at the blast-proof room, an energy beam shot forth from its palm. The structure that had withstood a powerful explosion was instantly penetrated. Its arm moved, and the blast-proof room was sliced cleanly in half from the middle.
"Haha, how about that?"
The faceplate of the armor opened, and a familiar face appeared before Orlov.
"Is it you?" Orlov's body stiffened. Had Ivan somehow overheard him speaking ill of him just moments ago?
Soon, however, Orlov found himself captivated by the armor. "You, how did you accomplish this?" he said, his voice filled with incredulity. "This is somewhat different from Tony Stark's designs."
The armor's hands, feet, and body contracted and opened, and Ivan stepped out from within. "I call it. The Fighter."
The two stood in the empty, ruined expanse of the test site, gazing at the metal behemoth. Ivan patted Orlov's shoulder and grinned. "It is truly beautiful, is it not?"
What man can truly resist the allure of a full metal armor? If Iron Man's armor possesses the smooth, elegant lines of a supercar, then the Fighter is as wild and rugged as an off-road vehicle. Adorned with small spikes on the shoulder pads and featuring exaggerated metal trapezius muscles, this creation was, in every sense, a testament to a man's particular brand of romance.
Orlov looked at this magnificent machine and then asked Ivan, who stood beside him, "Do you happen to have any shoes that require cleaning?"
Ivan simply stared. "Do I look like someone who wears leather shoes?"
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