Chapter 862: Clues to the Nightmare of His Own Death

Chapter 862: Chapter 862: Clues to the Nightmare of His Own Death

After returning to New York, Ezekiel Sims awoke from a nightmare in his apartment.

Ever since acquiring the Spider’s powers, he had been plagued by dreams of his own death. The dreams were disturbingly vivid. Even after waking up, he could recall every detail, making it difficult to dismiss the images as mere warnings.

And ever since Spider-Man appeared on the streets of New York last year, these nightmares had become increasingly frequent.

The reason he hadn’t gone after New York’s friendly neighborhood hero was that he was certain the ones who killed him in his dreams were three women who possessed powers of their own—not that Spider-Man kid.

In fact, when he first saw news reports about New York’s friendly neighborhood hero, Ezekiel Sims had considered capturing Spider-Man and interrogating him about where he had obtained his powers and whether he had any clues about the three Spider-Women.

But after watching footage of Spider-Man battling the Green Goblin and the Wild Boar Man, the Poison Spider silently put his own costume back at the bottom of his wardrobe. He didn’t have the ability to fight nimbly in midair like those three freaks.

Although the Poison Spider could jump impressive distances and move effortlessly across virtually any surface, whether the exterior wall of a skyscraper or the ceiling of a room, he couldn’t shoot webbing and swing between buildings.

Despite never having fought Spider-Man directly, Ezekiel Sims had assessed his chances and concluded that he couldn’t be certain of defeating the young hero. So he decided to postpone any action, wait for a better opportunity, and continue searching for clues about the three Spider-Women who would eventually kill him in his prophetic dreams.

He glanced at the old oil painting leaning against the wall. He had purchased it from a young artist who was also a collector. The painting depicted a medieval fortress under attack by a massive army.

It wasn’t the work of any renowned artist. Its only real value was that it was genuinely antique. As a result, the young man had surrendered it willingly without much trouble.

Today, Sims was scheduled to deliver the painting to Abstergo’s New York office. So after the nightmare woke him, he didn’t bother trying to get back to sleep. Instead, he went to take a shower.

Abstergo’s headquarters wasn’t in New York. It was located somewhere in Europe, at a site known only to a select few.

However, New York was home to Wall Street and served as a global financial center. An international corporation like Abstergo inevitably needed an important presence there as well.

The New York office, however, wasn’t Abstergo Industries itself, but Abstergo Entertainment. Fortunately, regardless of which subsidiary he visited, the person he needed to deal with was the same, so there was no risk of going to the wrong place.

Using his VIP identification card, Sims quickly passed through the employee entrance without needing to undergo an inspection. He then made his way to a reception room on an upper floor of the building and waited.

A receptionist brought him a cup of coffee. Before long, Dr. Warren Vidic, the man he had been waiting for and the director of Abstergo’s core research projects, arrived at the reception room.

"Ezekiel, is that the painting I asked you to get?"

Sims took the oil painting out of its packaging, placed it on the table, and slid it toward the doctor.

"I don’t understand why you wanted this particular painting. Not every antique painting is valuable. Given your position, surely you don’t need to personally hunt down materials for producing forgeries?"

Many people sought out antique oil paintings by obscure artists not because the paintings themselves were particularly valuable, but because their original canvases and pigments could be used to create convincing forgeries from the same period. This could fool certain experts who relied on pigment composition and canvas dating to determine authenticity.

Dr. Warren Vidic examined the painting as he spoke.

"This concerns a period of history I’m researching. The painting depicts the Mongol assault on the Fortress of Masyaf in Syria during the thirteenth century.

"Actually, the subject itself isn’t the important part. What I really want to know is who painted it, when it was painted, and whether it contains any hidden secrets."

Ezekiel Sims casually asked, "Do the Assassins really exist? You know which ones I’m talking about, right?"

"Of course I do. The Assassin Order really exists. In fact, you might even have dealt with them before. Have you ever heard of the Continental Hotel?"

"The Assassin Order is behind the Continental Hotel? If you know about them, why haven’t you wiped them out?"

"We tried, but we failed. The Continental Hotel has a complicated background, and the Assassins are only one faction among several. We can’t treat them all as if they’re the same. Those sewer rats who operate in the shadows have simply embedded themselves within the Continental Hotel’s system."

"Overthrowing an organization from within is supposed to be your specialty. Haven’t you tried infiltrating the Continental Hotel?"

"Unfortunately, things aren’t that simple. There are many forces in this world that are every bit as powerful as Abstergo. Picking unnecessary fights with them would only benefit our true enemies."

"Oh? I thought you people could do anything. Should I reconsider whether working with you is even worthwhile?"

Warren Vidic gave a cold laugh.

"If we really could do anything, we’d already be ruling the world. We wouldn’t need to cooperate with anyone.

"But you’re the one who came looking for us, which clearly means we can do more for you than anyone else can. Can you find another partner willing to give you as much freedom as we do?"

Ezekiel Sims softened his attitude.

"Fine. As long as you can provide what I need, I don’t particularly care about your conflicts with other organizations. I just don’t want those Assassins showing up and getting in my way."

"Don’t worry. The assignment we’ve given you won’t bring you into direct conflict with that organization. But I can’t guarantee you’ll never run into them. If you want us to intervene when that happens, we’ll have to negotiate the terms separately. Understood?"

"That’s fine. We’ll deal with it if the time comes. Right now, I’m only interested in my payment. You haven’t forgotten that, have you?"

Leaning back in his chair, Sims regarded the unusual researcher with a cold gaze.

Warren Vidic took a compact disc out of the pocket of his white lab coat and placed it in front of his collaborator.

"This contains software recently developed by the Department of Homeland Security. It can perform facial recognition against existing surveillance systems.

"It can also conduct approximate matches using sketches. As long as your drawings aren’t too outrageous—nothing worse than a primary school student’s scribbles, for instance—it should be able to find likely matches. However, I can only provide the software. I have no way of giving you access privileges to the systems themselves."

Sims frowned. "You need system access privileges for that?"

Vidic adopted a haughty expression.

"Of course. You don’t seriously think just anyone can wander into the government’s public security systems, do you? You’ll have to find your own way around that problem.

"Unless you’re willing to deepen your cooperation with us. Obtaining a painting is a trivial matter. It’s hardly worth granting you high-level access to government systems."

Taking the software disc, Sims ignored Dr. Vidic’s proposal.

"I only need to know which direction to investigate. I can handle the rest myself."

Because he found it difficult to trust others, Ezekiel Sims had spent most of his career operating alone. Intelligence gathering had always been his weak point.

With solid intelligence to guide him, however, the operational skills he had developed during his mercenary days became his greatest advantage—the very thing that had enabled him to achieve his current success.

Consequently, Sims had little interest in Abstergo’s proposal for deeper cooperation.

Unless, of course, the circumstances he faced changed again.

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