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Chapter 33: The Happy Ending, I Will Write It
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She complained, realizing that he wasn't even trying, yet still succeeding in bringing her to his side... Well, he's already succeeded.
Adam opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the intrusive morning sun.
The light felt like needles in his retinas, and a dull, throbbing ache had taken up residence deep within his skull.
He recalled the events leading to this state: a three-day OCD-fueled engineering binge, a complete disregard for sustenance or sleep.
Damn, he mused internally, I thought I was a glass cannon, but my stamina isn't so bad after all.
Gritting his teeth against the headache, he pushed himself out of bed. The headache felt worse than some of Hydra's torture sessions... How?
His gaze fell on the other side, where Domino was sleeping, still fully dressed.
A raised eyebrow was his only reaction before a small, unreadable smile touched his lips. He left the room quietly, letting her rest.
[He didn't even question it! Just accepted it and moved on!]
[Domino slept next to him! My ship is sailing!]
[Or she just passed out from his stank after forcing him to bed.]
[Your ship is sailing alright, sailing to Valhalla.]
[That was a good one, stealing that.]
[The ship doesn't have much hope. He said he's into redheads after all.]
[A man of taste!]
[A man of culture.]
[I approve!] [+1]
The shower was a necessary baptism. The scent of melted metal, and three days of sweat clung to him.
He wondered, not for the first time, about Domino's tolerance levels. How the fuck did she bear sleeping next to him?
The cold water was a shock to his system, washing away the grime and leaving him feeling raw but rejuvenated.
His brain still screamed for nutrients, but his mind was alert, already ticking through the day's tasks.
He dressed in a sharp, charcoal grey three-piece suit. Style, after all, was a weapon and a shield. Moreover, this is a show, and he has to entertain.
He feels like he's quite handsome, and selling his look is a profitable business; what's easier than just being you and entertaining just because you rock?
"Alice, how long was I out?" He asked, adjusting his cufflinks.
"Fifteen hours and twenty-seven minutes, Master," The AI's gentle voice responded from a hidden speaker.
He frowned, then chuckled at his own absurdity. He was about to complain about the wasted time, but fifteen hours was a pittance against a seventy-two-hour wakefulness marathon.
Still, the loss galled him. He was a beast.
"Such a pointless biological imperative," He muttered, before stopping himself.
He stroked his chin, a new idea forming. He looked up, addressing the empty air. "My imaginary friends? Any brilliant ideas? How does one rid oneself of the need for sleep?"
The audience, ever-present, erupted.
[Opportunity!!! Feed! Feed him information!]
[IRON FIST! Meditate into a healing trance! Le Fantomex too.]
[The Super-Soldier Serum! Cap barely sleeps!]
[Magic! A deal with Mephisto! (Don't actually do that)]
[Do that!]
[There's a Deviant strain that removes the need for sleep!]
[Deviant strain? The fuck is that? Asspull maybe?]
[Just mainline caffeine like a normal person!]
[Meditation! Magic from Ancient One!]
[Just get the Infinity Stones, bro.]
[Yeah, dude, just get the Heart Of The Universe! And Win!]
[Bunch of useless trash! Illuminati! Done with research yet!]
[Sleep division! Do your thing!]
[Some mutants, like Emma Frost in diamond form, or high-level telepaths demonstrate extreme control of their mental states, showing little need for sleep. You are a Cyberpath, maybe you can try something similar?]
[Astral Projection? Make a deal with Ancient One, feel it, and with Doom's intellect, should be easy to replicate, no?]
[The Extremis virus should be within reach. I would say it's the easiest to acquire, but I don't think it would get rid of sleep altogether.]
[Honestly, just ask the Forge or Beast to make a synaptic regulator that prevents dream-state buildup or some bullshit like that.]
[Symbiote is an optimal option, but I don't know if they are already on Earth.]
[?????????????]
[What is the Illuminati?]
[Why are they so organized and serious? Do they think he can hear them?]
[Tf? When did the Illuminati get so big?]
[Due to believers. We even have scientists joining our ranks, and most importantly, professional nerds and geeks.]
[I feel like I'm hallucinating. What has the World come to?]
[Why are nerds more important than scientists?]
[Nerds' lives matter, bro.]
Adam read the scrolling comments with intense interest.
His mind, enhanced by Doom's stolen intellect, was a perfect repository, but his knowledge had gaps.
He'd been more of a book and manga geek in his past life; the deep lore of the Marvel universe was a vast ocean he'd only dipped a toe into.
In Short, he can remember everything he'd seen, but he hadn't seen everything.
They, on the other hand...
The audience was his collective, omniscient research department.
He filed away the promising leads; the Iron Fist's meditation, the Super-Soldier Serum's metabolic effects; and most importantly, "Thank you, and I agree, Extremis seems BIS right now."
Then he moved to the kitchen, leaving the audience with another mental boom.
[Alright, I believe, how do I join the Illuminati?]
[...]
[I'm lost for words.]
[This Show is either Genius beyond all else, or we're dealing with something supernatural right now.]
[Oh, great Adam, the First Man! I pray to you! Save us all!]
[It's a miracle! There is a reason he's named Adam! This is a message from God!]
[By the name God, the Father. God the Son, Jesus Christ. And God, the first creation, Adam. Show us the wider World, the power of God!]
[What's happening!?]
[Do not tarnish the Holy Trinity! What's wrong with you?]
[Maniacs, everyone's losing their minds!!]
[Dude, they're just trolling.]
[Nah. Nah. They ain't trolling, they serious.]
[It happened once, twice, a dozen times. This ain't no coincidence no more, especially with the way the governments all around the world are reacting to the show.]
[Guys, I hate to tell ya, the end is near.]
[I'm risking my job, no, my life writing this, but I... I know something... Trust me, we're dealing with something beyond human understanding.]
[...] [...] [...] [...] [...] [...] [...] [...] [...]
[I'm scared...]
[I have terminal cancer, so I don't even care! Lmao! Adam, keep me entertained for the last few months of my life!]
[I had already prepared to commit suicide tomorrow, but this show man, I can't. I have to live just a little bit more to see it through! Is it really a miracle?]
[Me too.] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1] [+1]
While the audience was in chaos, Adam casually whipped up two generous portions of fluffy pancakes, perfectly browned, alongside scrambled eggs and fresh orange juice.
As he cooked, he instructed Alice to wake Domino. By the time the food was plated, she was there, looking tousled but awake.
He played the gentleman, pulling out a chair for her and setting down her plate with a flourish. "Bonjour, mademoiselle," He said, his French accent impeccable.
He then took his own seat and dug in, savoring each bite with the reverence of a man who had genuinely forgotten what food tasted like.
Domino watched him, her gaze curious. He looked fresh, handsome, and was in a suspiciously good mood.
She was perceptive; a life as a government-created "failed" weapon had honed her senses to the subtle ways people looked at her; with fear, disgust, or clinical curiosity.
She did look weird, after all, when compared to what's normal. Her skin was pale beyond understanding, like a clean sheet of paper, and the black birthmark on her eyes didn't make things any better.
Adam never did. She'd initially taken it as a lack of prejudice, but had come to a colder realization: he didn't discriminate because he didn't truly see others.
They were variables, set pieces in the grand production of his life. It seemed as if everyone else is an Extra to him; therefore, he didn't consider them.
[Domino sees right through him!]
[She's not wrong. Our boy is a magnificent solipsist.]
[Really? Is he, though?]
[Likely, considering he's reincarnated there, part of him must think everything being a dream is a possibility.]
[But he made her breakfast! That's progress!]
Today, however, felt different. She couldn't pinpoint how.
Adam swallowed a mouthful of pancake, a sigh of pure bliss escaping him. "I didn't know I was a five-star chef until now. Starvation really is the best spice."
She rolled her eyes. "You're making a joke out of nearly killing yourself? I still need you to give me the happy ending I know you will, okay?"
"I need to be in top form," He replied breezily. "But you believe in my ability to give you that 'happy ending' more than I do. It's impressive, really."
Adam would raise his eyes, calm and bright, he would promise, "If you truly follow, then that happy ending, I will write it."
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