Chapter 9: The Chess Match
[Morning – Stark Lab Tunnels – Day 3]
The old lab was a playground, and Adam was the game master. He had spent the last few hours devising a plan, a series of traps that would turn the lab into a deadly maze. He and Bixby were a team, a well-oiled machine, their movements synchronized, their thoughts a silent conversation.
"Okay," Adam whispered into his comms. "First trap is a go. He's in the main hall. I'm rerouting power to the secondary console."
He used his "Manipulation Card" again, a precise mental command that sent a surge of power through the lab's old circuits. Lights flickered, doors slammed shut, and a low-level hum echoed through the tunnels. The cyborg, a ghost in the machine, was now a pawn in his game.
"He's falling for it," Bixby said, a hint of awe in her voice. "He's trying to cut through the main door. He's going to get himself electrocuted."
"Not yet," Adam said, a smug smile on his face. "We need him in the main chamber. We need him to get to the final piece."
They moved through the lab, a silent dance of misdirection and deception. Adam was no longer fighting with brute force. He was fighting with his mind, with his wits. He was a tactician, a strategist, a chess master.
This is more satisfying than a physical fight. This is a game of wit, not strength. And I am good at this.
He lured the cyborg into the main chamber, a massive, cavernous space where the old I-beams were stacked like giant dominoes. He had an idea. A desperate, final gamble. He used his Manipulation Card again, a mental command that sent a surge of energy through the I-beam, weakening it just enough.
The cyborg, a blur of motion, ran into the chamber, his sensors on high alert. He stopped, confused. There was no one there. And then, he felt the floor give way. He looked up, and his eyes, a cold, empty blue, widened. A massive I-beam, weakened by Adam's subtle manipulation, was falling directly on him. He didn't have time to react. He was a prisoner in a maze he couldn't escape. The I-beam fell with a terrible, grinding crash, pinning him to the floor.
"Checkmate," Adam said, a triumphant smile on his face.
Bixby, watching from a high perch, let out a silent sigh of relief. "It worked. You did it."
They moved to the exit, their hearts pounding with a new kind of relief. They had won. They had beaten the cyborg. They had outsmarted their enemy.
Then, the world twisted again. A dozen armed agents, their faces hidden behind tactical masks, emerged from the shadows. The Hydra agent from the cafe, the one who had been leading the cyborg, was among them. His face was a cold, calculating mask of contempt.
"Did you think I was that easy to fool?" he said, his voice a low growl. "The cyborg was a distraction. A test. I was the real trap."
Adam's mind reeled. The cyborg wasn't the real threat. The cyborg was a puppet, a test subject. The real enemy was a tactician, a strategist, a man who had been waiting for them to make a mistake. Adam had won the chess match, but he had fallen for a bigger one. They were trapped.
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