# Chapter 2
The electrical discharge was like a supernova detonating inside my skull. Pain stopped being a mere sensation — it became the only reality. A thin, drilling ultrasound rang in my ears, and system messages streamed across my vision, layered directly over the murky water of the incubator. Time seemed to thicken into syrup, letting my mind latch onto the symbols flaring before my eyes.
The vortex of violet flame inside my mind split apart into ten separate sparks. Each one carried within it an echo of another world — an object, or a skill.
---
**[ WARNING! "Beginner's Luck" has been applied. ]**
**[ Summon Results: ]**
**[F] Trash — Burnt-Out Light Bulb from the "Eastern Sector"**
*Type: Item.*
*Lore: An ordinary household object from a hive-city where sunlight is an unaffordable luxury. It flickered in the cramped room of a destitute technician until it finally gave out under the assault of power surges.*
*Effect: Useless. When shaken, produces a pleasant, quiet tinkling of tungsten fragments.*
---
**[D] Common — Military Stimulant "Adrenaline-9"**
*Type: Item (Consumable).*
*Lore: Standard infantry equipment from the era of the corporate wars of the 23rd century. Cheap, rough, and effective when you need to run an extra mile under fire.*
*Effect: Completely suppresses pain and fatigue for 10 minutes. After the effect ends, a severe crash follows.*
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**[F] Trash — Old Copper Coin**
*Type: Item.*
*Lore: Currency from a world consumed by the Void several millennia ago. The obverse bears the profile of a ruler whose name has been erased from history.*
*Effect: Has no value beyond the collectible.*
---
**[F] Trash — Empty Nuka-Cola Bottle**
*Type: Item.*
*Lore: A relic of nuclear apocalypse. The plastic has gone dull, and the cap was lost long ago in radioactive sands.*
*Effect: Liquid container (0.5 L). Smells faintly of caramel and decay.*
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**[B] Epic — "Genesis-Prime" Serum (Purified Formula)**
*Type: Item (Permanent Enhancement).*
*Lore: The result of the classified "Superman" project from a reality where science knew no ethical constraints. Unlike the prototypes, this version underwent molecular stabilization, eliminating any risk of madness or tissue deformation.*
*Effect: Permanently increases all physical characteristics — strength, agility, endurance, regeneration — to peak human capacity and beyond. No side effects.*
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**[C] Rare — Skill: "Cognitive Translator"**
*Type: Passive Skill.*
*Lore: A direct upload of linguistic matrices from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database. Allows the user to recognize the patterns of any human language.*
*Effect: The bearer understands and can speak all existing Earth languages, including rare dialects.*
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**[C] Rare — Skill: "Weapons Improviser"**
*Type: Passive Skill.*
*Lore: Knowledge inspired by the techniques of the Marked One and the Punisher. Any object in your hands becomes lethal.*
*Effect: You are capable of using a pen, a brick, or a manhole cover as a professional throwing or melee weapon with 95% accuracy.*
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**[F] Trash — Propaganda Poster: "Hydra Was Right"**
*Type: Item.*
*Lore: A faded scrap of paper from an alternate reality where Steve Rogers said those two words.*
*Effect: Triggers an acute desire to burn this garbage. No practical use.*
---
**[F] Trash — J. Jonah Jameson's Cigar Butt**
*Type: Item.*
*Lore: Furiously ground out in an ashtray after yet another front-page editorial about the "Masked Menace." Still reeks of cheap tobacco.*
*Effect: Useless. Causes irritation of the nasal mucosa.*
---
**[F] Trash — Flyer Signed by Tony Stark (Forgery)**
*Type: Item.*
*Lore: A cheap printout from a Stark Expo promotional event. The signature was done in a regular marker by a fan imitator.*
*Effect: Useless. Has no market value.*
---
The pain from the next discharge hit its peak, but this time I refused to let my consciousness slip away.
*Activate everything useful! Now!* I roared inside my mind.
The system responded instantly. The items from the virtual list flared and dissolved, materializing directly inside my new body or in my hands.
**[ Used: "Genesis-Prime" Serum ]**
**[ Used: Military Stimulant "Adrenaline-9" ]**
**[ Warning: Deep Cellular Restructuring Process Initiated! ]**
The next second, I regretted my decision. If the electroshock had been hell, then the serum was my own personal apocalypse. My bones began to lengthen and densify with a sound like snapping dry wood, the muscles beneath my skin twisting like living steel cables. But Adrenaline-9 was already flooding my bloodstream, hammering the unbearable pain down into a dull, distant pulse.
My eyes flew open. I could now see not just the murky suspension around me, but every micro-fracture in the armored glass.
"What's happening?!" The scientist's voice beyond the glass, distorted by the speakers, was now perfectly clear to me. "Why are the subject's readings going off the charts? This isn't stabilization, this is—"
Too late. I felt the serum's power finish remaking my body, gifting me with extraordinary strength. My hands, previously paralyzed, clenched into fists. The sensor pads were ripped clean from my skin — the Genesis regeneration was sealing the wounds faster than the blood could flow.
I jerked my head sharply, spitting out the breathing tube, and tore the cables from the back of my skull in one powerful wrench.
"Alert! The subject is showing aggression! Shoot to kill!" someone shouted inside the lab.
I didn't wait. My palm pressed flat against the glass.
*Crack.*
The five-centimeter-thick pane spiderwebbed. With a second blow, powered by my new musculature, I blew it out entirely. Along with thousands of liters of liquid, I crashed down onto the tiled floor.
Two guards in black uniforms bearing Hydra insignia were already raising their rifles.
"Freeze, freak!" the nearest one barked in German.
I didn't answer. My movements were frighteningly fast, my mind razor-focused. My body moved on its own, guided by the Weapons Improviser skill. My hand shot forward, sending that very same "useless" light bulb into the air.
The glass bulb traced a perfect arc and drove itself with a sharp crunch directly into the visor slit of the operative's helmet. It exploded into fragments inside his faceplate. The soldier dropped before he could pull the trigger.
The second guard opened fire. Bullets pinged off the metal casing of the incubator behind me, and one grazed my shoulder — but I barely felt it.
A shard of glass was already in my hands. In the grip of a master, it was a deadly projectile. I spun on my heel, stepping off the line of fire, and flung the shard in a throw that buried it straight in the guard's throat. While he gurgled and clutched at his neck, I crossed the distance between us in three strides.
The punch to the jaw hit with enough force that the soldier's cervical vertebrae simply couldn't hold.
I stood still in the middle of the lab, water and blood pooling across the floor around me. An alarm was shrieking in my ears, and from the corridor came the thunder of many boots. I looked down at my hands — they were trembling slightly from the excess of adrenaline.
I picked up the assault rifle from the dead guard. The weapon settled into my hands like it had always been there. Deep in the corridor, shouts and officers' commands echoed toward me.
The hallway was drenched in pulsing red emergency light. The siren bored into my skull, but under Adrenaline-9 it felt like nothing more than an annoying background buzz. I pressed myself against the wall beside a heavy steel door.
A tactical picture surfaced in my mind. The Weapons Improviser skill didn't only work for throws — it gave me an intuitive read on firing angles and blind spots.
"Sector four — clear!" someone called out from around the corner.
Boot steps. At least four of them. Heavy gear, by the sound of it. I was only able to gauge all of this because of the skill I'd been given. I rolled out from the corner in a low crouch. Four Hydra operatives in exoskeleton suits raised their rifles, but I was faster. Time seemed to slow for me as I quickly assessed their equipment. Short, measured bursts. Three rounds into the helmet joint of the first. Two into the second. The third tried to raise a shield, but I was already a meter from him. The rifle barrel drove into his visor slit, breaking his nose and knocking him out cold.
The fourth managed to get his arm up.
"Die, you freak!" he snarled, squeezing the trigger.
The round scorched my rib, but Genesis's regeneration answered immediately with a burst of heat. I grabbed his wrist and felt the metal of the exoskeleton creak under my fingers. A headbutt into his helmet — and the operative folded to the floor.
"That's all you've got?" I rasped, wiping blood from my face.
I pushed on toward the freight elevator. An ice-cold voice crackled from the ceiling speakers:
"Marcus Eisenhardt. You are the property of the organization. Any further resistance will result in termination. You have three seconds to drop your weapon."
"Kiss my ass," I snapped back, ducking into a maintenance tunnel.
A automated turret blocked the way, dropping down from the ceiling. Its twin barrels began to spin up. There was nowhere to take cover.
The copper coin materialized in my hand.
I gave it a spin and launched it. With the Weapons Improviser skill and my enhanced musculature behind it, the coin found the gap between the turret's targeting camera and the barrel housing. Metal ground against metal, sparks showered down. The mechanism seized.
One second's delay — that was all I needed. I lunged at the turret, grabbed the barrels, and tore them from their ceiling mount by the roots. I used them as an improvised club to smash the door's control terminal.
A screech of metal, a pop of blown circuits — and the elevator's blast door began to grind slowly upward.
Behind the door was a hangar. And in the hangar… in the hangar sat a Quinjet bearing S.H.I.E.L.D. markings. Too bad I hadn't pulled a skill for flying one of those things. So I left the hangar on foot, relieving Hydra of several firearms on my way out. I kicked through the hangar door, and cold night air hit me full in the face.
"Freedom…"