Chapter 206: Recruitment

"Now—the difference between Metas and Inhumans," Peter continued. "Meta-Humans are born with the X-Gene, or it develops naturally when they reach puberty. Some Metas manifest their powers from birth. Unlike Inhuman abilities, Meta-Human powers have no inherent evolutionary purpose. The abilities they receive are entirely random."

"That is absurd," Liv muttered.

"It is. But the advantage is that the bracelet I created can deactivate the negative effect or suppress the power entirely. For example, someone with toad-based abilities might also develop a corresponding physical appearance. The bracelet cancels that visual aspect, restoring them to a normal human appearance. With Inhumans, however, if you suppress the primary power, all of the other baseline abilities remain. They cannot be erased."

Liv nodded slowly, absorbing the information.

"Unlike Inhumans, Meta-Humans retain the same physical limitations as ordinary people. A physically unfit person with Meta powers will not be able to run like Steve Rogers. An equally unfit Inhuman, however, will. Meta-Humans are bound by their body’s natural condition, which means they must train daily to maintain peak performance."

"So the Inhumans are superior to Meta-Humans in most respects," Liv concluded.

"In many respects, yes. But Meta-Humans possess advantages that Inhumans do not. You simply have to discover what those are."

"And what are you?" Liv asked.

"There are two types of Meta-Humans—Natural and Artificial. Natural Metas are what I just described. Artificial Metas are individuals who were exposed to an accident, either involuntarily or voluntarily, that granted them superhuman abilities. Bruce Banner is an Artificial Meta. Steve Rogers is an Artificial Meta-Human, because his capabilities exceed those of any ordinary human. I fall into the same category."

"You are an Artificial Meta-Human," Liv said.

"Correct. I am living proof that the Super-Soldier Serum can be successfully recreated."

Liv nearly went into shock.

"You did not see that coming?" Peter asked, faintly amused.

"What?"

"The details are a story for another day. For now, I will begin preparing your transfer so you can stay here."

"What?" Liv repeated.

"I need to run comprehensive tests on you, and I need to train you to control your abilities. I do not want you accidentally killing someone." He paused and studied her expression. "Or have you already?"

Olivia shook her head quickly.

"That is what I thought."

"I am not staying here," Liv said firmly. "I have a family. I have friends. I am not going to live in a cave."

Peter raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"You will not become Rapunzel, Liv. And I have no intention of locking you away in this place—you would destroy half of it within a week out of sheer curiosity. I will have you transferred to New York."

"New York?" Liv blinked. "We are in New York? How did we get here so fast?"

"Teleporter," Peter said simply.

Liv’s mouth hung open.

"Get used to it. There will be far stranger things than that."

"Even so," she insisted, crossing her arms, "I refuse. I have a family."

Peter stopped typing and turned to face her directly.

"I have a few questions I would like you to answer first," he said calmly. "After that, you can decide whether you want to come or stay. Fair?"

"Fine."

"Who encouraged you to start dating Major?"

"At first, my mother was against it. But Peyton kept insisting that I should meet someone. Eventually, I agreed to give Major a chance."

"How long were you with him?"

"A year and three months. We were planning the wedding when... this happened."

"Tell me—who took the news of your breakup with Major the worst?"

"My mother," Liv said without hesitation. "And I think Peyton looked... relieved. But that was probably just my imagination."

She said it with confidence. Peter’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly—a subtle grimace she did not catch.

He asked several more questions, each seemingly innocuous. Liv answered every one of them openly. The answers led Peter to one simple, unavoidable conclusion.

"I will tell you what I have gathered from these questions," he said. "Your mother orchestrated your relationship with Major. Since your father died, you have been entirely at her mercy—and she has used that position to mold you into the person she wants you to be. The only decision that was ever truly yours was choosing a medical career. Everything else—the social circle, the relationship, the engagement—was her doing. She planted ideas subtly, and you accepted them without realizing the boundaries being drawn around you. Your brother is extremely submissive to your mother and would rather hide than confront her. And Peyton..."

He paused. "Peyton is in love with Major. She is relieved that you are no longer marrying him. She is keeping it a secret."

Liv opened her mouth to argue.

Peter held up a hand.

"Just think about it," he said quietly. "Analyze it carefully. Your mother’s fury over the broken engagement. Peyton subtly growing closer to Major. Your brother always hiding, never fully supporting you. Your mother’s anger every time you make a choice she did not approve of."

Liv fell silent. She sat motionless for several long minutes, turning each observation over in her mind.

"Were you always surrounded by people?" Peter asked gently.

"Yes."

He sighed.

"Until a person is comfortable being alone, they will never know if they are choosing someone out of love or out of loneliness. Liv—you have always been afraid of being alone, because that is what they put inside your head. But the truth is, you do not need to fear solitude. What you should fear are the people who make you feel alone even when they are standing right beside you."

Liv lowered her gaze, processing his words. Peter reached forward, took her hands, and gently stroked the backs of them.

"Stop desperately seeking external approval and recognition," he said. "Be your own spectator. Seek your own applause. There is no greater misfortune than someone who changes the way they think or act simply to please others."

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it softly. Liv stared at him, and he saw it—a spark in her eyes. A small, fragile ember that, sooner or later, would grow into a wildfire.

"If I come here," Liv whispered, "you promise me it will be different."

"I cannot promise you it will be different," Peter replied. "But I can promise you that you will be a free woman." He held her gaze. "Tell me—when in the morning no one wakes you up, and at night no one waits for you, and you can do whatever you want... what do you call that? Freedom, or loneliness?"

Liv looked into his eyes for a long moment.

Then she smiled. She already knew the answer.

"I will arrange your transfer to the New York police forensic division," Peter said. "I recommend you prepare yourself mentally. New York is a unique place. The concentration of Meta-Humans there is considerably higher than anywhere else."

He opened a Boom Tube and gestured toward the portal.

Liv nodded, gave him one final smile, and stepped through. Peter watched the portal close behind her, then walked to the concealed elevator at the far end of the cave. Once inside, he removed the eyepatch and voice modulator, peeling away the patches and dropping them into his pocket. He pulled on a lab coat and headed toward his personal laboratory.

From his pocket, he retrieved the sealed tube of Liv’s blood and began studying it in earnest. His primary objective was to develop countermeasures and a suitable immune agent that would prevent zombification from ever affecting him.

Thump.

He turned his head. Two folders had appeared on the table beside him—seemingly from nowhere. He picked them up and began reading through them in detail. A faint smile crossed his face.

Setting the folders aside, he returned to the computer and ran several targeted searches. Cross-referencing Liv’s blood samples with data he already possessed, he quickly isolated a viable immune agent by reverse-engineering Rogue’s blood composition alongside the Connors formula.

He left his lab and walked to the Spider-Computer.

"Karen, I need you to locate some people."

Karen materialized on his lap and settled comfortably.

"Who am I looking for?"

"A young woman named Kornkamon, currently in Thailand. Arrange a direct flight to New York. And a man named Maxwell McGrath.¹"

"Understood. May I ask what you need them for?"

"As you know, my social circle is not particularly extensive, and I need trustworthy people. I was planning to ask the Ancient One for recommendations, but it appears she anticipated me—these two folders are hers, and they contain detailed profiles on both individuals. If she trusts them, I am willing to give them a chance. Maxwell will oversee Kingsman, and Kornkamon will manage L-Corp. Neither of them will be made aware of the hidden operations behind either organization."

"What happens if they attempt to betray you?"

"I will have them sign a contract inscribed with binding runes. The enchantment will prevent them from betraying me or revealing corporate secrets to outside parties."

"That was to be expected from you," Karen said with a playful smile. "By the way—remember that tomorrow is the Expo."

Peter groaned. "Damn. I completely forgot. If it were not for that ridiculous invitation, I would not go. I cannot stand looking at that idiot Hammer’s face."

"Yes, well, you will have to endure it," Karen replied. "Besides—I have a feeling that something strange is going to happen there. It would be wise to attend. You never know when someone might need their Dark Knight."

Peter studied her face. She was completely serious.

"I sense it too," he admitted quietly. "That danger lurking just around the corner. Prepare the protection units and deploy the standby robots in case something catastrophic occurs."

Something that will happen, Peter thought. Even if I want to intervene directly, I cannot afford to create more butterfly effects than I have already been generating. Besides... this could be a necessary trial for Stark.

He closed his eyes and recalled the words of Uatu the Watcher¹: "Heroes are not born. They are forged by darkness, molded by battle, and defined by sacrifice."

Peter knew that Tony was not yet ready. He had to allow Stark to overcome his own trials, just as everyone else had to overcome theirs. But at no point had anyone said that Stark could not be given a subtle push in the right direction.

Rising from his chair, Peter cracked his back and headed toward the main floor of the house—toward his family. Toward the people he loved and cherished in this world.

’I never thought I would feel this way,’ he reflected as he climbed the stairs. ’The feeling of truly belonging somewhere.’

A small, genuine smile touched his face as he walked toward his children and the women he loved.