Chapter 11: Easy money, part 2

The last time Titan and I had broken into Machinehead's residence, I had simply punched through the reinforced glass in the guy's penthouse with Titan's body, which had taken its stone form beforehand.

And I could have done it again, of course, only this time I wasn't going to confront Machinehead's faction, so I had to choose a less daring way of showing up.

There were guards at the entrance to the building, which was, of course, entirely owned by the crime boss. There might be something supernatural about the building's security, with a few criminals with powers working for him, but it was the only option I had. I'm still a boy of fifteen, and a simple disguise doesn't help-I open my mouth, and everyone will know they're dealing with a child. No one would let me have an audience with the boss without a corresponding order from him, which, with all his ability to predict, he simply could not leave. After all, Machinehead's talents are based on input analysis. Extremely advanced, bordering on mystical, but still, he's not Spider-Man. He can't know about my visit, I'm just out of his sight, he has no input data to analyze.

Consequently, I need to infiltrate him and at the same time to demonstrate my power, so that the head of the mafia immediately realized that he was not just dealing with a cocky teenager, but with a cocky teenager with dangerous abilities. Said and done.

Waiting for a group of respectable-looking gentlemen to pass through the main doors - quite decent Wall Street wolves, as that characteristic applies to them - I grabbed the long-suffering Walmart bag from my chest again and followed the gentlemen through the door at breakneck speed.

Once again I was in the slow world. The lobby, almost empty; the guards, quiet for now, but soon they should notice something wrong; the girls at reception, smiling and making eyes at some guy with the appearance of a movie star - though it's not so much about looks as style - the cameras, watching the front doorway, where I was already gone. The elevator doors are closed to my displeasure, but there are stairs.

I took off up the stairs of a building I didn't know-I'd broken into the top floors in a previous life, and I'd been taken from there on a stretcher after a battle. The floors whizzed by like mirages, and I could only keep count. At last the right floor, I plunged out into the corridor, still accelerating. The guards, unconcerned, believing that no one else was here, were propping up the walls at the door leading to the boss's office. And no one will open those doors for me, so I'll have to do it myself.

"What the?!!!" Shocked and panicked, though you can't tell by his face, Machine Head jumps up from the couch when I appear in the middle of the room.

For the umpteenth time, I wondered at his nature: this guy literally had a mechanical head. Somewhere beneath the immaculate snow-white jacket, cybernetics was fused with flesh - his hands were already quite human. I do not even know whether you can call him a cyborg, he has no human brain, he is more like a machine with a human body or an advanced robot that considers itself human - a kind of terminator. But his ambitions and aspirations are quite understandable, human, even if he's guided by machine logic instead of emotions - so you can deal with him quite well - you just have to keep in mind that a soulless bastard in his case is not an insult, but a statement of fact.

On the other side of the room, his deputy and the main insurance in case of an assassination attempt, Isotope, hastily teleported to his boss. He was an unremarkable man in his forties with a long face, framed by a stylish horseshoe mustache, wearing a green jacket over a black T-shirt with a capital "I" on the chest, and a bunch of black hair sticking up to the sky to accentuate this effect. Even at that moment - when an unknown man with unclear intentions broke into the boss's office - a foxy grin never slid off his face. Isotope came out of the first jump behind his boss, his arm on his shoulder, ready for the second jump, ready to teleport him out of here in an instant if his boss would only give the signal. But Machine Head has a truly machine-like speed of thought and reaction; he saw that not only had I stopped, not interfering with his escape in any way, but he raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, showing his peaceful intentions.

And it's not solid for a criminal to run away from an adversary who doesn't even attack him, while the room is filled with his own henchmen. Not only the guards who had missed the intrusion, but a couple of supercriminals I knew were apparently on duty with the others outside the boss's room. One was Titan, who had already taken his stone form, and the other was the guy with the tentacles from the device on his chest. What was his name? Binding Tyrant or something like that. He's also a kind of weirdo, and despite his strange name and his strange ability-this thing is alive and in symbiosis with him-this guy would be the main problem in the event of a serious mess. Those tentacles from his chest are pretty damn strong... though they certainly don't compare to the Hail Mary.

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"Negotiations?" I ask calmly, at the sight of a dozen guns.

"The boy!" I was surprised by one of the bulls behind me, but another guard shouted at him.

"Who are you?" The machine-head had already calmed down, and, fixing his tie that had fallen to the side, walked to his desk. Isotope followed him, ready to rescue his boss at any moment. - And how did you get here?

"That's not important. What matters is what I have." I shook the bag full of gold.

"A bag from Walmart?" The perpetrator grinned.

"Its contents," I replied with a chuckle for a chuckle.

"Hmm," Machinehead turned on the console built into his desk, staring at the screen with his lenses for a couple of seconds. "You're very fast. The cameras almost didn't pick you up."

"He could easily have killed me if he wanted to do it - you thought, didn't you?"

"But you can't now," Isotope suddenly interjected, peering over his boss's shoulder.

"I told you I didn't come here to spill blood," I shrugged. "I propose a deal, and I hear that you, above all else, value pragmatism and logic, and, believe me, a deal is the best and only mutually beneficial option for us."

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