Elliot entered the hotel room in quick steps, his breath slightly caught after a light jog from the lobby. He carried a small cream-colored envelope in his hand. Inside it was his father's employee ID, which he had "borrowed" without anyone noticing.
On the sofa, Vomi sat casually with a cup of coffee in her hand. Her expression remained calm, as though there had never been a shred of doubt in her mind that Elliot would do exactly as she had asked. Her sharp eyes observed the young man from behind the thin steam rising from her cup.
Elliot walked closer, his heart pounding loudly. Without saying much, he extended the envelope toward her.
"Here, Vomi," he said softly, his voice steady yet filled with determination. "I managed to take it. My father won't notice, at least not for the next two days. He got Christmas off."
Vomi elegantly set her coffee cup on the table. Her slender fingers reached for the envelope, opening it and pulling out the employee ID, which gleamed faintly under the room's soft lighting.
"Excellent work, Elliot." Vomi gave him a thin smile, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if the smile came from the depths of genuine gratitude. Yet behind it lay an unbridgeable detachment. To her, this young man was nothing more than a pawn in a much larger game.
Elliot gazed at her with hopeful eyes, as though Vomi's praise meant the world to him.
"I can distract my father for two days. I promise no one will know about this," Elliot added, his voice sounding more excited now.
Vomi looked at him intently, as if assessing something unseen behind his innocent face. Without further words, she stood and stepped toward him. Before Elliot could react, Vomi wrapped her arms around him. The embrace was firm, warm, yet there was something unfamiliar in it—something only Vomi herself understood.
"Thank you, Elliot," she whispered softly into his ear. "I'm lucky to have met you. You're truly... extraordinary."
Elliot froze. His chest felt like it might explode. That warmth rushed so quickly through him that it left him speechless. His face flushed, and his stiff hands slowly rose to return the embrace.
"I... I just want to help," he stammered. "I want to do anything that makes you happy."
Vomi pulled back slowly, her hands resting on his shoulders. Her sharp eyes met his directly. A soft smile adorned her face—a smile polished to perfection, like the art of manipulation she had mastered long ago.
"You know, Elliot," she said huskily, "I'm a woman who's... perhaps too old for you. Doesn't it bother you to be involved with someone old enough to be your mother?"
Elliot hesitated for a moment. But instead of pulling away, his face grew more serious.
"I don't care," he answered firmly, though his cheeks remained red. "I... I love you, Vomi. Age doesn't mean anything to me. You're... perfect. You're someone special to me."
Those words nearly made Vomi laugh, but she held it back. A small sneer flickered in her heart. "This boy… so naïve and easy to manipulate. Love? That's nothing but a weakness." Yet Vomi revealed nothing. Instead, she gently touched Elliot's face, gazing at him with what appeared to be warmth.
"Elliot," she murmured sweetly, "you're absolutely adorable. You know that? I didn't expect you to say something like that to me."
Elliot blushed deeper. This time, he even dared to look her directly in the eyes.
"I'm serious. You can call me anything you want, and I'll... I'll always be there for you," he whispered softly. "I just want to make you happy. That's all."
Fool, Vomi thought, though her smile remained gentle and flawless.
Without saying anything more, Vomi leaned in closer. Elliot's hands instinctively rested on her waist. His breath hitched as Vomi's lips touched his. At first, it was soft, then grew deeper. The kiss was intoxicating, like a poison he eagerly drank. Elliot's thoughts blurred, as though nothing else in the world existed but Vomi.
To Vomi, the kiss was nothing more than a means to keep this boy firmly in her grasp. "This one will do anything for me. How pathetic." But her movements were flawless—she deepened the kiss just enough, ensuring every second felt undeniably real to Elliot.
After a long moment, Vomi pulled away slowly. She looked into Elliot's flushed face, his breath still uneven, and gave him a faint smile.
"You're truly sweet, Elliot," she said softly. "But now I have to go. I have something I need to prepare."
Still intoxicated by the kiss, Elliot quickly nodded. "Oh, of course. You must be busy… I… I just want to make sure you're okay."
Vomi picked up her coat draped on the sofa and walked toward the door. Before leaving, she turned and gave Elliot one last, meaningful look.
"Get some rest, Elliot. I'll be back in a few days. Trust me, everything will be fine."
Elliot watched her with a foolish smile on his face, his heart pounding, as though Vomi was his entire world.
When the door closed, the sweetness in Vomi's expression vanished instantly. Her face returned to its cold, detached state. Inside, she scoffed.
"Stupid boy. You think you love me? If you knew who I really am… you'd run screaming."
Vomi strode out of the hotel with steady steps, heading for her temporary apartment in Queens. That night, she began preparing everything she needed to infiltrate Pym's laboratory the next day. In her mind, the plan was already flawless. There was no room for error.
To Vomi, love was nothing but an unnecessary emotion—a weakness to exploit. And as far as she was concerned, Elliot was just another pawn, easily played.
...
Vomi arrived at her temporary apartment in Queens just before midnight. The winter air pierced to the bone, but she barely cared. Her body sank into the shabby sofa in the living room, her slender fingers lighting a cigarette that glowed faintly under the dim light. The white smoke spiraled, rising slowly like a fine thread that mirrored her tangled thoughts.
On the table in front of her, a map of the Pym laboratory lay wide open, along with some detailed notes and sketches she had made over the past few days. Vomi exhaled the cigarette smoke slowly, then pressed her fingers to her temples. At that moment, a flood of information rushed in—memories of Naori, her bunshin, who had just disappeared.
"Tch..." Vomi hissed softly, biting the tip of her cigarette. A torrent of memories came like a flood: visuals, sounds, sensations, all rushing mercilessly into her head. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself amid the storm of information overtaking her brain.
In that memory, Naori met a well-dressed man, with a friendly yet firm face. Phil Coulson. A figure who had hardly changed over the years, even in Vomi's long and exhausting life. They met at an upscale café in Manhattan.
"Naori Hyuga," Coulson's voice was warm, but there was a faint tension behind it. "SHIELD highly values your potential. We believe your expertise could be useful in... maintaining the balance of the world."
Bunshin Naori only smiled faintly, crossing her legs gracefully while holding a cup of warm tea gently. "Interesting," she replied flatly, but her tone was laced with seduction. "But lately, I've been too busy, Agent Coulson. The world is so beautiful and short, it would be a waste not to enjoy it with the money I've earned."
"Money?" Coulson raised an eyebrow, slightly confused.
Naori chuckled softly. A laugh that could break down the defenses of many. "I'm a businesswoman, Coulson. Besides, I think the world can still turn without my help, don't you think?"
Vomi opened her eyes, gripping the cigarette between her fingers. Her face was sour, filled with frustration. "Damn bunshin," she muttered under her breath, nearly growling. "You play the 'Naori' role too perfectly, while I have to patiently play with some brat who just... had his coming-of-age ceremony last night."
She sighed heavily, then leaned her head back against the sofa. But the next memory came even more forcefully: Naori living a glamorous life, indulging herself as if there was no tomorrow.
Naori was seen at a luxury boutique in Paris, her hand quickly pointing to various expensive dresses that hadn't even been released to the public yet. The boutique staff ran around, surrounding her with looks of awe and slight panic.
"Take this one, and this one. Ah, and that bag," Naori said casually, wearing expensive sunglasses, her long hair blowing in the wind. "I need three different colors. Don't make me wait too long."
After shopping, she was in Santorini, sitting on the deck of a private yacht, wearing a long white gown as the sea breeze hit her face. Next to her, a handsome blond actor whispered something in her ear, making her chuckle softly.
"My goodness," Naori said, sweetly touching her chin, "You're more satisfying than I thought. We should celebrate more things tonight, shouldn't we?"
The media didn't take long to notice. Headlines appeared:
"Naori Hyuga: The Female Version of Tony Stark?"
"Is Naori Hyuga Also a Superhero?"
The name of the article's author caught Vomi's attention: Eddie Brock. A strawberry blonde journalist who, though handsome, made her click her tongue.
"Eddie?" Vomi clicked her tongue in annoyance, rolling her eyes. The cigarette in her hand was almost finished. "If only that guy didn't have a girlfriend... I swear I'd show him my 'superpower.' From night until morning, until he couldn't stand anymore!"
She chuckled to herself, sneering at the irony. "Damn. My bunshin's life is far more fun than mine right now."
Vomi stood, extinguishing the cigarette in the glass ashtray. Her body moved toward the table. She quickly formed a hand seal, and in an instant, white smoke appeared in the center of the room. Her shadow appeared there: the perfect figure who would play the role of Naori for the next two days.
The bunshin looked at Vomi with a similar expression: cold and calculating. "You know your task," Vomi said flatly, staring at her bunshin. "Just relax for these two days. Don't do anything suspicious. Don't stand out too much."
Bunshin Naori shrugged casually, her face smirking mischievously. "Relax? Are you sure? I've already booked tickets to the Maldives tomorrow. There's a young CEO there who might be interesting to... talk to all night."
"Don't look for trouble." Vomi stared sharply. "I'll be infiltrating the Pym laboratory tomorrow, and I don't want any disturbances, no matter how small. Got it?"
The bunshin snorted lightly, then nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Don't worry. Besides, someone has to have fun for both of us, right?"
Vomi rolled her eyes. "Go on. And remember: don't overdo it."
With a final nod, the bunshin disappeared in an instant through the window, leaving Vomi alone in the quiet apartment.
Vomi stared at the table full of her plans. Maps, diagrams, and Elliot's father's ID, which glowed dimly. The time was almost here. No room for error.
"Tomorrow... everything has to go perfectly," she murmured softly, glaring at the Pym laboratory map.
Outside the window, the night sky swallowed New York City, still busy, as if silently witnessing the grand plan set into motion by Vomi.