Marvel: My Life Is A TV SHOW!-Chapter 130: They Don’t F*ckin’ Learn

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Chapter 130: They Don't Fuckin' Learn

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For two days, Adam Cypher had not moved from his chair.

His office, high above the chaos of the street below, had welcomed silence as a guest.

The blinds were drawn, casting the room in perpetual twilight. On his desk, untouched cups of coffee had grown cold, their surfaces developing thin skins of cream.

His hands were interlocked beneath his chin, fingers forming a cage around empty air.

His eyes were fixed on nothing, unblinking, yet he saw everything.

Technopathy was not merely a connection to machines; it was an affinity.

And Adam's relationship with technology had deepened immeasurably since claiming half of Reed Richards' intellect.

Technopathy, he has realized long ago, is complemented with intelligence, and the coming of the two gave birth to something grander.

Where before he had seen data, now he saw patterns. Where before he had traced connections, now he understood the architecture of information itself.

The suicide bombing, the coordinated attacks across the world, the carefully constructed narrative blaming mutants; it was all there, buried beneath layers of obfuscation, waiting for someone smart enough to dig.

He had been digging for forty-eight hours without pause. Vampire physiology meant sleep was optional, but even he felt the weight of sustained concentration pressing against the edges of his consciousness.

Finally, he blinked.

The connection severed. The room swam back into focus. Adam let out a long, slow sigh.

"They just don't fucking learn."

The words hung in the air, directed at no one and everyone.

The parties arrayed against him were too numerous to count; Hydra, Mephisto's infernal patience, anti-mutant extremists, business rivals smelling blood, politicians hungry for a scalp.

They had coordinated. They had shared intelligence. They had crafted an attack that almost bypassed his senses, but even they do not know of the existence of Information Vision.

Honestly, he was never worried about his safety, for the bombings wouldn't have done much more than injure him; pain is his love anyway, and he would recover in likely minutes.

He was worried for Wanda's safety, not only because he feels responsible and she'd be a wonderful ally, but also because of her connection to Chthon, the ancient Elder God of chaos magic.

He's a demonic, corrupted being, having marked Wanda at birth on Mount Wundagore, intending to use her as a vessel to project his power and consciousness into the world.

That naturally means Chthon won't allow her to just yet. She must mature into the perfect vessel, so Adam wasn't sure what was going to happen had the explosions reached her.

Eitherway, In the two days since the bombing, the US had turned upside down.

The street around Cypher HQ remained closed, a crime scene frozen in time.

News channels ran endless loops of the explosion, the smoke, the injured.

A judge had already drafted a search warrant for Cypher HQ; the victim being investigated, his secrets threatened with exposure under the guise of justice.

The investigation would find nothing, or worse, it would find "evidence" implicating mutants.

It's mostly due to the 'fact' that a mutant group took credit for the bombing, and the suspicious nature surrounding the event.

Then again, it could just be malicious parties trying to reach Cypher's very secure and invaluable databases.

Corruption was as American as apple pie, and Marvel's America was corruption marinated in super-powered paranoia.

In his past world, 9/11 was one of the most tragic terrorist attacks that the US experienced; here, it's much more chaotic, especially with the existence of Magneto and so many chaotic individuals.

The chaotic nature of this world made it so Adam wasn't surprised. He had never believed in humanity's capacity for goodness.

Emotions and desires drove people to dark places, and the entities opposing him; organizations, humans, demons; were masters of exploiting that darkness.

But they had made a critical error. They had fought him with influence, not understanding that influence was his native language.

[Information] grew with attention. And Adam had spent months cultivating attention on a global scale.

He straightened in his chair. "Alice. Send Emma a message. 'We Can Start.'"

A soft chime confirmed transmission.

[Tf?! A search warrant was drafted for his company? How does that make sense?]

[Well, he's a mutant, and politicians in Marvel do not like mutants.]

[But would Adam really keep any valuable information in any fucking database, knowing just how easy things leak in Marvel?]

[Fucking hope so.]

[Two days of non-stop technopathy with half of Reed and Doom's brains... he's seen EVERYTHING. Do u guys think he watches porn?]

[...] [Definitely, even if accidentally, he must've seen a lot of shit, a lot of crazy stuff, maybe discovered some sex dungeons.]

[Hmm true true, he must've discovered the one woman in the world that got fucked by a horse... I'm so fucking envious, man.]

[...] [???] [Wait, you're the same person from last time. What's your obsession with horses?] [...] [...] [...] [...]

The automatic door slid open.

Cypher Enterprises operated with minimal human staff; Adam's paranoia and preference for automation saw to that.

Since the bombing, he'd sent everyone home indefinitely. Anna was back at the X-Mansion, and he'd sent Wanda and Pietro with her.

The X mansion is a lovely place, when it's not under attack by genocidal maniacs or the mutant superemacist.

Domino was running errands that couldn't be trusted to anyone else. Even the building's automated systems were running on reduced protocols, most functions handled by Alice alone.

So the woman who walked through his door was someone he had allowed.

She moved with confidence, her tailored suit hugging a figure that belonged on magazine covers.

Dark hair cascaded past her shoulders. Her posture was perfect, her stride unhurried.

But it was her face that drew the eye; or rather, what covered it. A golden mask concealed her features from the nose up, its polished surface reflecting the dim office light like a second skin.

Below it, her lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her visible eye.

Madame Masque. Whitney Frost. Daughter of Count Nefaria. Heir to the Maggia crime family.

Her voice was honey-laced with jest. "I apologize for the intrusion. Our previous contact was... remote."

"But for this occasion, for this topic, I felt a personal touch was warranted." She paused, letting the silence stretch. "I thought we had a deal."

Adam's expression didn't change. He raised his eyes slowly, meeting her gaze through the mask's eyeholes. "Perhaps you could expand on that. My memory isn't what it used to be."

Whitney's smile tightened. "Wilson Fisk. Our mutual interest. Everything was supposed to be well and done after his... removal. So why," Her voice sharpened, "Is your hound running through our operations like a train through a china shop?"

She stepped closer. "The man they call the Punisher. He's destroying Maggia interests across the city, and every trail leads back to Hell's Kitchen. To you."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "The Punisher? My hound?" A soft chuckle escaped him.

"No, my dear. He's no hound of mine. Frank Castle has his own goals, his own vendettas. They don't coincide with mine."

He waved a dismissive hand. "If you came to me to stop him, save your breath."

Whitney's visible eye narrowed. "The Maggia family is very interested in cooperation. Especially given your... recent difficulties." She gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the chaos below.

"Bombings are our specialty, Mr. Cypher. We will be able to trace back the source of the chaos."

"And you have so many enemies. Help us control the underworld. Help us control your strays. In return, you gain a powerful ally instead of another enemy."

Adam's focus, which had been drifting through his mental landscape of plans and counter-plans, suddenly snapped back to the present.

He looked at her. Really looked.

"Really?"

The word was soft, almost wondering. Adam knew the Maggia's troubles intimately; the Punisher's unending war, Daredevil's recent emergence as a thorn in their side, the constant pressure from federal agencies.

Frank Castle alone had cost them millions in lost product and dead soldiers.

But for Whitney Frost to come here, to offer alliance, meant the pressure was worse than he'd thought.

"When did the Maggia family get the misconception that I'm on your side?"

Whitney's expression, hidden as it was, went cold.

Adam stood, rising from his chair with fluid grace. He approached her slowly, his movements unhurried, his expression serene.

"Speaking of which; have you noticed, my dear? Why Hell's Kitchen's underworld remains empty?"

He stopped a few feet from her. "It's because of me. If you've sent anyone to take over territory around here, they're dead... This is my territory."

He tilted his head. "Outside Hell's Kitchen? I'm still undecided. My hands have been rather... busy."

Whitney was silent for a long moment. Then she giggled; a sound that was equal parts amusement and a hint of insanity. "You're exactly as I expected... I'm loving it."

She stepped closer, closing the distance between them. "Then let me offer something different. A partnership. Not with the Maggia as a whole; with me."

"I want to take over New York's underworld. Then the entire US. Every crime family, every head, every throne. I want to rule this place." Her visible eye burned with ambition. "Alongside you."