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Wick's underground parking garage had been transformed into a laboratory that would make any scientist or wizard envious.
When John returned home, he slid the USB drive containing the artificial intelligence into the main computer. A calm, electronic male voice greeted him, "It is my pleasure to serve you, sir."
John considered for a moment, then said, "You'll be called Moss."
"System naming complete. I am Moss," the voice confirmed.
This was now a fully intelligent laboratory, assembled at a cost of over a hundred million dollars. Only someone like Tony Stark could give away such technology as if it were nothing.
John wandered through the underground garage, taking in the high-tech equipment. Still, something felt missing.
He drew his wand and tapped the table. "Cauldron, come to me."
A heavy, ancient cauldron appeared atop the sleek, futuristic workbench, a striking contrast of old and new.
John did not stop there. With another wave of his wand, fireplaces, brass scales, jars filled with mysterious ingredients, and stacks of ancient notebooks materialized throughout the lab. The cold, sterile space was now a seamless blend of advanced technology and timeless magic.
Satisfied, John snapped his fingers.
On the central platform, the Destroyer Armor appeared—towering, silent, and radiating an intimidating presence. Ivan had already copied all the necessary data, so the armor was back in John's hands.
John had not wasted his time. Golden runes now spiraled around the armor's surface. He raised his left hand and traced his right wrist, where a band of golden runes shimmered.
He lifted his right hand, and the Destroyer mimicked the motion.
"Attack," John commanded.
The Destroyer's visor slid open, unleashing a torrent of orange-red flames that instantly burned a massive hole in the garage floor. A mechanical arm rolled over and activated the fire extinguisher.
"The power is even greater than Ivan's armor," John mused, watching as the Destroyer moved with uncanny fluidity, executing complex maneuvers without a hint of delay.
"Let's try something new," he said to Moss. "Record and analyze everything."
"Understood, Mr. Wick," Moss replied.
Without using his wand, John extended a finger and uttered, "Diffindo."
Red runes blazed across the Destroyer's body. A flash of silver light sliced through the metal workbench, cutting it cleanly in two. The line of destruction continued, grazing his father's old Ford. The car slowly split apart, right down the middle.
John stared in surprise. "That's more power than I expected. Is it because Uru metal conducts magic so well?"
He continued testing, running the Destroyer through a series of spells. Not everything went smoothly. When he tried a petrification spell, the targeted area melted instead of turning to stone.
After the tests, John released the controls, drew his wand, and waved it. "Reparo."
The damaged laboratory rapidly restored itself. Everything returned to its original state—except the melted section, which remained scarred. Even the Ford was pieced back together, showing no sign of ever having been cut in half.
John glanced at his father's melted trophy, sighed, and quietly returned it to the family's trophy room. Since his father was not home, John felt no guilt for the destruction.
He settled into a comfortable chair. "Moss, analyze the data."
"Please wait, Mr. Wick," Moss replied.
The projected data showed that most of the spells the Destroyer could perform were offensive in nature.
"It certainly lives up to its name," John muttered, studying the analysis.
The Destroyer's greatest strength was its durability, a true masterpiece of Asgardian craftsmanship. Its capabilities far exceeded any armor currently on Earth. In terms of endurance, John trusted magic more than technology. Technology advanced at a dizzying pace, but magic—especially ancient spells—remained as powerful as ever, if not more so. That was both its strength and its limitation.
Ancient magic represented raw power, while technology embodied the promise of the future. The Destroyer, powered by magic and forged from the finest materials, might lack some of Tony Stark's advanced features, but in a real fight, Tony would struggle to even scratch its defenses.
For the next two weeks, John was almost always in the lab, determined to make the Destroyer truly his own. With Moss's assistance, he finally understood the joy Tony found in creation.
Blue bubbles simmered in the cauldron, looking anything but appetizing. John dipped a quill into the potion and began inscribing runes onto the Destroyer's plating. The runes, sharing their origin with Asgardian script, glowed beneath his pen and then faded into the metal. The process was addictive—like assembling the world's most intricate puzzle.
But even the most dedicated alchemist cannot escape the outside world forever.
*****
One afternoon, John opened the door to find Hattie standing outside, tapping her phone impatiently.
"Hattie, I do not recall any work that required you to come here in person," John said, more tired than annoyed.
He found himself missing Natasha. At least she would sneak in quietly, pick locks, and never bury him in paperwork.
Hattie offered a half-smile. "It seems you really are the type to forget things. General Ross is very interested in the Steel Soldier weapon box you delivered."
John let out a long sigh. "I just want a real vacation."
"You do not have a vacation," Hattie replied, stepping into the house and heading straight for the refrigerator. She opened it, found nothing, and turned to John with a look of disbelief. "What have you been eating?"
"Sometimes, eating too much is a burden," John replied with a philosophical shrug.
Hattie rolled her eyes. "Are you studying philosophy now?"
She picked up her phone and tapped the screen. "There's a restaurant nearby. Eat something before I lose my job over your health."
John leaned against the door. "Can I consider this your treat?"
"I do not mind people knowing you take advantage of your subordinates," Hattie replied, pulling out a contract regarding the weapon box order for Hammer Industries and the military.
"General Ross wants to know about the production of large animal traps."
John signed the document with barely a glance. "Who does he want to capture?"
"I have no idea," Hattie replied, shaking her head. "It's fast and powerful. Maybe he wants to catch aliens."
John raised an eyebrow. "A bold idea, but unfortunately, we only make battlefield weapons. If he wants to destroy something, I can help."
As an arms dealer, John understood the necessity of being pragmatic. He called Orlov, urging him to return from Miami as soon as possible. Otherwise, he could not guarantee that stories about his mother terrifying a middle-aged man would not make the headlines.
Orlov, realizing he had no choice, reluctantly ended his vacation.
Back in the lab, a transparent crystal glowing with three colors rested on the workbench. A camera tracked it with a red light.
After John entered, he asked, "Report the results, Moss."
Moss replied, "After testing, the item continues to emit energy stably."
"Well done, Moss."
John picked up the crystal, watching as the runes on its surface faded away. He smiled. "This is something that would drive Ivan crazy."
The new core was ready.
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