Chapter 40 Mutation? Gene Recombination.
“You’re finally here, my friend.” Luther opened his arms to Allen, as if to hug him. “I’m so happy to see you here!”
Allen turned his head away in disgust, refusing to look at him. "Seeing you makes me want to vomit, Lex. All I can picture is you being shoved headfirst into a toilet. Stay away from me!"
Luther's lips twitched, clearly also recalling Allen's repeated breaches of martial ethics and his exploitation of the IRS and Deathstroke to frame him.
And those secret hideouts of his that were inexplicably discovered by Superman—he didn't believe Alan wasn't involved. That little bastard was absolutely infuriating. If he didn't currently need the little bastard's help—
Luther forced a smile: "Honey, I'm hurt by what you're saying. How about I show you around my lab? I just got a batch of aliens, would you like to see them?"
Allen plopped down in Lex Luthor's boss chair and rummaged through Luthor's things, making a mess of them as if he were the owner of the place.
Luther's eyelids twitched as he watched, and after holding back for a long time, he finally squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth: "You came to see me because you've finally come to your senses and are ready to cooperate with me, right? You didn't come here for a vacation, did you?"
Allen gave a smile that would infuriate Luther and said, "I just came to see if you were dead yet. As for cooperation—"
He paused subtly.
Lex Luthor could hear his back teeth grinding. If it weren't for the fact that they could only rely on Allen to release the alien monster, he wouldn't want to cooperate with Allen, this idiot whose mind was only filled with his mother and brother. Who knew that the alien fragments and the Demon Mirror could produce such an effect? They had no choice but to persuade Allen.
His other collaborator has been inexplicably silent lately.
Of course, not cooperating isn't out of the question. But intelligent people are inherently restless and overconfident. Luther always felt that he and Allen were truly on the same page, that Allen could completely understand him, and that their goals were completely aligned—so what could he do if Allen didn't cooperate with him?
Does Allen really want to die with alien monsters? He doesn't believe it.
Survival is a basic human instinct.
Under Luther's increasingly murderous gaze, Allen lazily spun around in his executive chair, showing no urgency whatsoever about his impending death. He drawled, "Cooperation isn't out of the question, but you'd better show some sincerity. Nobody knows what I'll become after releasing that monster. After all, while I like aliens, I have absolutely no interest in becoming one myself... All the benefits go to you, and I'll bear the consequences alone. What kind of deal is that?"
Luther's face darkened, his patience clearly wearing thin: "You only have a chance to survive if you choose to cooperate, and so does your brother Harry. Once we figure out the secrets of that monster's genes, we'll definitely be able to find a way to solve the Osborn family's genetic disease—according to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s data, it can indeed alter human genes without side effects. I think this is a win-win situation. Are you really going to refuse?"
Allen opened his mouth: "Then of course I am—"
Luther's eyes were filled with "I knew it" and "I'm sure of it."
“No way,” Allen said. “After all, I’d rather see you frustrated and angry because you got nothing than for me to live. You don’t have many secret bases left, do you? Let me see… Oh dear, how could I have forgotten about the Scandinavian lab last time? That was a mistake. I’ll send it to Superman right now!”
Luther, at his wit's end, snapped, "Speak! What do you want?!"
Allen put his phone away: "Just kidding, I sent the data from that Scandinavian lab to Superman yesterday! Oh right, the package you sent to Black Mask in Gotham should have been intercepted a minute ago, are you happy, my friend?"
Luther was nearly driven mad with anger. He knew that when he pretended to be friends with Allen, this seemingly cold but actually cunning little bastard was playing him for a fool! He had invited Allen to his lab and office multiple times, ultimately succeeding in letting the wolf into his house!
The wolf chuckled and said, "Alright, alright, look how wrinkled you are from anger. It was just a little joke between friends, you wouldn't be so petty, would you?"
Luther's fingers trembled as if he had Parkinson's disease. After all, he never expected that Allen would contact Superman to get revenge on him. The little bastard had clearly said that he would never have any contact with superheroes!
The next second, Allen dropped his fake smile, his green eyes fixed on Luther, and said bluntly, "Build me a lab deep underground in the outskirts of Broodhaven, the kind that's discreet. You know how big that monster is... You don't want Superman to catch up with us right at the start of our plan, do you? If you make my life unbearable, I'll drag you down to hell with me. You know how much potential a person has before they die."
Luther stared at Allen's pale lips and trembling fingers, and then finally smiled with satisfaction before Allen's face darkened further.
Just as he expected, no one is unafraid of death, especially someone like Allen. After living a boring life in a manor for more than a decade, Allen's new life was just beginning. God had shown him the wonderful world and given him a brilliant mind, and now He was taking it all away. Anyone would go crazy in that kind of situation, right?
Moreover, he could also ruthlessly tear open another of Allen's wounds—
“I recently met a devout Catholic,” Luther said, pleased to see Allen narrow his eyes and show a cat-like wariness. He continued, “Rumor has it that Morpheus imprisoned his girlfriend, Queen Nada, who committed suicide, in Hell. He later rescued Nada, but that place has been used by Satan to imprison all the souls of those who commit suicide—you know suicide is a serious crime, right? Their souls can’t go to Heaven.”
This time, Allen's expression turned completely cold. He looked at Luther expressionlessly and asked, "What do you want to say?"
“Don’t be so nervous, darling,” Luther said. “I just want to say—aren’t demons and angels essentially just a group of species that are more powerful than humans and have some special abilities? Once you become stronger than them, heaven and hell will just be your playground, and you can take Emily home. What do you think?”
Allen's tense shoulders gradually relaxed under Luther's gaze. He leaned back in his seat, but his eyes were like knives cutting into Luther's flesh.
Finally, he gave a cold laugh, turned to look at the bright sunshine of the metropolis, and said, "You're right, I'm going to make Lucifer my pet."
Seemingly thinking of something more interesting, he turned his gaze back to Luther: "How about you come up on stage and perform for me? You and Bullseye can do a stand-up comedy routine, and I'll invite Superman over to applaud you."
Luther snorted, pretending not to hear Allen's sarcasm.
He thought to himself, "Let's talk about it when you're actually still alive."
All of Allen's progress was going smoothly. Before leaving Luther's office, he had successfully swindled a large amount of research funding, a laboratory, and even an order for Osborne from Luther, allowing Harry to gain a firm foothold on Osborne's board of directors.
Harry jumped up and down on the other end of the phone: "You better take care of your own business, don't worry about me!"
While fiddling with the experimental sample in his hand, Allen chatted with his younger brother: "It's just a side job. Anyway, it's Luthor's money, so why not take advantage of it?"
“Then you can’t let Luther order a huge amount of ‘New York’s dirty air,’ ‘nuclear wastewater,’ and ‘Norman Osborn’s hair’ from the Osborn Corporation… The Osborn Corporation doesn’t have any of those products, and what the hell is that last one?!” Harry took a deep breath. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You know perfectly well that Norman’s hair has all fallen out!”
Allen readily admitted, "Yes, I did it on purpose. Please say hello to the old man for me."
The old man is probably not doing well right now, because Harry has been starving him for three days because of Norman's foul mouth. Even if Old Man could transform into the Green Goblin, he'd still be in trouble if he didn't eat.
Harry looked at the dark circles under his brother's eyes and the oversized lab coat on the other end of the video call, and finally sighed: "I understand. You need Norman's genes for research, right? I'll have Grayson send you the hair later—he's been doing quite well playing Daredevil lately, and no one in Hell's Kitchen has noticed anything unusual yet. Peter is helping out too."
The implication was that everything was going smoothly, and Allen didn't need to worry about their safety; he could focus on dealing with Luther.
Luther was a smart man. He knew very well that tampering with Allen's lab would not only bring him no benefit, but would also give Allen leverage over him, ultimately leading to a huge financial loss for him. Therefore, everything in the lab was now under Allen's control.
All he needed to do each day was to fob Luther off with some genetic research on alien monsters, or show Luther his body, which was beginning to mutate.
Merging with a monster is an incredible process, and if Allen hadn't been there himself, he would have had a hard time describing the feeling to others.
"It's like I've turned into a mushroom, with mycelium growing in my body every day, and those spores gradually spreading in every capillary, making me full of energy..." Allen stretched out his hands, carefully looking at the lines on his forearms, and vividly described it to Luther.
The reverse triple spiral on his chest had grown like vines, gradually covering almost his entire body.
“My connection with this world is much closer now. I can see into the outside world through countless eyes without leaving home,” Allen said, reaching out to gently stroke the fluffy rabbit in his hand. “I can even see the genetic code deep within your bodies and easily change it, just like this.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the rabbit under his command, which had been docile and cute, suddenly sprang up, sprouted wings from its back, and produced long, thin fangs from its mouth, biting down on Luther, who was wearing a protective suit.
Luther's protective suit, which could withstand years of damage in outer space, suddenly developed a large hole. He yelled and tried to shake off the little white rabbit on his arm, but the rabbit only bit harder.
Then, Luther felt dizzy.
Before he passed out, he heard Allen's slightly regretful voice: "Oh dear, I had my little cutie carry cobra genes. Wait, I'll give you the antidote now. I won't let you die right now, you loser. I haven't squeezed every last drop of value out of you yet!"
Luther nearly died of anger on the spot.
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