"You better make sure to kill me this time!"
Electro sneered defiantly, his voice dripping with scorn. He knew these people had lured him here to finish him off under special conditions. But did they really think it would be that easy to kill him? Ha!
"Kill you? Oh no, no, no. I have no intention of killing you."
The man in the suit, the leader of this operation, shook his head with a sly grin. He turned to one of his subordinates and gave an order:
"Open the gift I prepared for him."
"Yes, sir!"
The subordinate fiddled with a nearby device, and suddenly, several mechanical claws emerged from the walls of Electro's room. In an instant, they lunged at him, locking him tightly in their grip.
"Argh!" Electro roared as a surge of electricity burst from his body in an attempt to free himself. But no matter how much voltage he unleashed, it had no effect on the mechanical claws.
Even worse, his energy was being drained rapidly. Exhausted and powerless, his body sagged, but the claws held him upright, refusing to let him collapse.
"Max, don't rush. Soon, you'll be fully integrated into our system," the man in the suit said with a sinister smile, exuding the air of a classic villain.
As his words faded, a new mechanical arm descended from the ceiling. Unlike the previous ones, this arm didn't have a claw for grabbing. Instead, it carried a helmet-like contraption.
Clink!
The arm secured the helmet onto Electro's head. From it, a strange energy began to flow into his brain.
"Ugh… AAAAAHHHH!"
Electro's agonized screams echoed through the room. Meanwhile, the man in the suit casually sipped his coffee, unbothered by the chaos. He turned to Dr. Octavius and asked, "How's Osborn doing?"
"He's sleeping peacefully. Don't worry, when he wakes up, he'll be your most loyal enforcer," Dr. Octavius replied dismissively, clearly unimpressed.
"No," the man in the suit said as he looked at Electro writhing on the screen. "I have a better candidate in mind."
"Oh?" Dr. Octavius raised an eyebrow. "You seem very confident in your brainwashing techniques."
He scoffed, trying to provoke the man. While Dr. Octavius had heard about this supposed advanced brainwashing method, he found the whole setup crude and unconvincing.
The man in the suit merely glanced at him without a word.
"..."
After a while, Electro stopped struggling, his body completely still.
Because he hadn't yet reached the desperation needed to unlock his element-based abilities, he couldn't resist once his energy was fully drained. He was utterly helpless against the man's plan.
"Desire, rust, seventeen..."
The man in the suit began to chant a sequence of words in Russian.
"Dawn, furnace, nine..."
"Kindness, home, truck, one..."
The phrases were uttered with a solemn tone. They weren't for Dr. Octavius's benefit but were the original activation phrases for the brainwashing program.
"Soldier," the man concluded, his voice grave.
As soon as the final word was spoken, Electro, who had been as lifeless as a corpse, raised his head. His eyes were hollow, and he replied in a monotone voice:
"Awaiting orders."
The man in the suit smiled with satisfaction. He waved to his subordinates.
"Take him for a shower and a meal. And don't recharge him just yet; I'd hate for our base to run out of electricity."
"Understood!"
After his men left, Dr. Octavius remained in silent disbelief.
"Don't strain yourself trying to figure it out," the man in the suit said nonchalantly. "No one in the world truly understands the mechanics of this program."
"Hmph…"
Dr. Octavius grunted, still feeling uneasy. He didn't notice the fleeting glint of malice in the man's eyes.
Bang bang bang!
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed outside the room. A subordinate burst in, panting.
"Sir! Osborn is awake!"
"Take me to him!"
The man in the suit slammed his hand on the table and stood up, leading the way to the Green Goblin's room.
"Osborn!"
He stormed in, greeted by the sight of Osborn sitting with a sinister smirk.
"What happened to you? Was it Tony Stark?" the man demanded, clenching his fists involuntarily. A rare sense of nervousness crept into his voice.
Dr. Octavius, now fully alert, noticed this subtle tension and silently pondered its implications.
"Do you know that bastard?"
Osborn didn't answer directly. Instead, he posed a question, his tone venomous.
Hearing this, the man in the suit clenched his jaw. He suspected Osborn had indeed encountered someone claiming to be Tony Stark. Snatching a pen and paper, he hastily sketched something before shoving it into Osborn's hands.
"Is this the guy?"
Osborn snatched the paper. On it was a flamboyant caricature of Tony Stark and the Mark 42 armor—his signature suit.
"Hmph!"
Osborn slammed the sketch onto the table, gritting his teeth.
"I don't recognize that showoff, but the armor's appearance was similar, though not identical."
"Damn it!"
The man cursed under his breath. He knew why the armor didn't match perfectly—Tony Stark was constantly upgrading his suits.
"Want revenge?" the man asked darkly. "Unleash those weapons you've been hiding, and I'll have Dr. Octavius and a new ally join you to destroy him!"
"Wait, are you saying you made a suit of armor for me too?!"
At home, Wen Huangxi stared at Ned in shock, caught between disbelief and excitement.
"That's right," Ned said with a grin, pulling out the Mark 5 suitcase armor he had worked on all night with Little AI.
"Wow!"
Wen Huangxi eagerly grabbed the suitcase.
"I thought it would weigh a ton, but it's so light!"
He examined it from all angles, marveling at its design. He had seen Little AI transform into the Mark 85 many times, but owning his own armor felt entirely different.
"Of course, it's light," Ned explained. "The Iron Man tech comes from a friend of mine, and he guards it fiercely. To prevent it from falling into the wrong hands, this is the only set Little AI was able to create.
"It's basically an upgraded bulletproof vest," Ned continued seriously. "I made it for your protection—not for reckless heroics. If you put yourself in danger, this suit won't save you."
His words carried a tone of warning, making Wen Huangxi nod earnestly.
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T/N:
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