Malphegor
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MCIM Ch. 32
🕑 Added 2025-09-24 02:31:19 +0000 UTC"Sorry the place is a bit rough around the edges," Mario said, gesturing around his underground base. "Make yourself at home."
He called to Woody, who emerged from the shadows carrying bottles of Coca-Cola, something he had specifically bought during supply runs for entertaining guests.
"We need to move fast on the Ivan Vanko situation," Mario continued, settling onto the leather couch and accepting the Coke. He popped the cap and took a swig, grimacing slightly. Room temperature wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. "His father's seriously ill, and I'm worried if we wait too long, it might be too late."
Natasha nodded, pulling out a tablet and making notes. "No problem. Do you have any additional details? The more specific information we have, the easier it'll be to track them down."
Gore leaned forward eagerly. "What kind of details? Like, criminal records? Known associates? Spending patterns? They're still human beings. Even in hiding, they can't live completely off the grid. Internet usage, TV signals, phone calls, shopping, there'll be a digital footprint somewhere. My cousin's friend used to work for a private investigator, and he said they always start with financial transactions because—"
"Gore," Kerry interrupted with a slight smile. "Breathe, man."
"Right, sorry. Just trying to help."
Mario shrugged at Natasha's questioning look. "That's all I've got. If I knew their exact address, I wouldn't need S.H.I.E.L.D."
He paused, thinking. "Anton used to be Howard Stark's partner before he got screwed over and exiled from the U.S. That might be a good starting point for your investigation."
"Understood," Natasha said, typing rapidly. "That should be enough to work with. If S.H.I.E.L.D. can't find them with those leads, we might as well shut down the whole operation."
A scream suddenly echoed from the dark room in the corner of the base. Her head snapped toward the sound.
"Ay, Dios mío," Kerry muttered. "That pendejo's still alive in there?"
"Pearl's been having a real good time with him," Garcia added with a shrug.
Mario smiled sheepishly at Natasha. "Yeah, about that... I've got a lot of enemies, you know? Sometimes I invite one or two back here as 'house guests.' Perfectly normal, right?"
Natasha fixed him with a stare, then said, "I have extensive interrogation experience. Want me to lend a hand?"
Before arriving, Fury had briefed her about the S.H.I.E.L.D. traitor Mario was holding. Getting intel from the prisoner was one of her primary objectives, information Fury desperately needed.
"Oh shit, she wants to torture the guy too," Kerry whispered to his friends. "That's kind of hot."
"Hermano, you got serious issues," Garcia replied, shaking his head.
"What? I'm just saying—"
"Don't say anything," Garcia advised. "Just... don't."
Mario stood up and grabbed Natasha's hand, pulling her toward the makeshift prison.
"That would be fantastic! Come on, let me show you our 'guest room.'"
How the hell are her hands this soft when she handles guns all day? Mario wondered as he led her down the corridor. S.H.I.E.L.D. must have some kind of special skin care regimen. I'll have to ask Coulson about that later.
The guest room was Mario's masterpiece of prison engineering, constructed entirely from obsidian blocks. The material was incredibly durable; even his enchanted sniper rifle could only produce tiny cracks that healed within three seconds. By his calculations, it would take at least a dozen direct hits to break through, making escape nearly impossible.
The iron doors were the weakest point in the design, so he had installed two layers for security. Both were currently open, revealing Pearl's massive form hunched in the corner.
The vampire was wielding a small whip, lashing the prisoner suspended from the wall. His excitement was visible, but Mario winced at how ridiculous his small arms looked swinging the leather whip around.
"Pearl, take a break," he said quickly, not wanting to give Natasha the wrong impression about his operation's professionalism.
Pearl reluctantly transformed into his bat form, shrinking down to avoid taking up half the room's space.
"Leave him to me," he chirped enthusiastically. "I'll get everything out of him. If you want to know what age he started jerking off, I'll make him confess that too!"
"Pearl," Kerry muttered, looking queasy. "We don't need to know that shit."
Mario rolled his eyes. "I'm not a pervert. I don't give a damn when he discovered masturbation. Just step back and watch. Learn something from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s interrogation techniques."
He moved aside, allowing Natasha to enter the cell. She first ran her fingers along the obsidian walls, testing their texture and density, before turning her attention to the prisoner.
Agent Allen hung naked except for his underwear, and his body was covered in purple welts from Pearl's enthusiastic whipping. Under her surprised gaze, the wounds were already healing at an accelerated rate.
A sock was stuffed in his mouth, and his eyes stared ahead with lifeless expression. Even when she moved directly in front of him, he barely reacted.
"Damn," Gore whispered. "Did Pearl break him?"
Mario felt the same concern. If Allen was mentally shattered, he'd have to capture another Hydra agent and spend days converting him to vampire status. He stepped forward and lightly slapped Allen's cheek. The man's eyes suddenly focused, filled with terror as they locked onto Mario's face.
"Spit out the sock. I need to ask you something."
Allen pushed the disgusting fabric out with his tongue. Mario had no intention of touching someone else's filthy sock with his bare hands.
Satisfied that his prisoner was still functional, he nodded and smiled. But to Allen, that smile was the stuff of nightmares, his whole body began trembling uncontrollably, though he didn't produce a sound.
"He's all yours," Mario told Natasha, pulling a blood vial from his inventory. "I'm going to tend my wheat farm. If he won't talk, just call for me."
Allen's eyes immediately locked onto the vial. Mario uncapped it and poured the contents into Allen's mouth. Instantly, every wound on his body disappeared without a trace.
He handed another vial to Natasha. "You saw the effect. If one isn't enough, have Pearl come find me."
Without waiting for her reaction, he turned and left the guest room. As he stepped outside, he could hear Pearl's voice booming from within:
"Hey there, gorgeous! Mario wants me to learn interrogation techniques from you, so don't hold back on the good stuff!"
Mario chuckled and shook his head.
"Woody, Garcia, Kerry, Gore, come with me."
He called the team over, and led the four men toward the underground farm he'd established.
"This is our agricultural operation," he said to Woody. "From now on, you're in charge of managing our food production. Make sure we don't run out of food."
Woody nodded, examining the neat rows of crops. "I can handle that. Though I gotta admit, farming wasn't covered in my training."
Mario gestured for Garcia, Kerry, and Gore to step aside with him. They walked back through the corridor, leaving Woody alone to examine the crops more closely.
"I need you three to keep an eye on him when I'm gone," he said quietly once they were out of earshot.
"Gone where?" Garcia asked.
"Siberia. I'm bringing back those scientists I mentioned. It's a long flight, and I don't want to leave the base undefended."
Kerry looked confused. "Why not bring us with you? We can handle some Russians."
"Because I need people I trust watching things here. Woody's solid, but he's still new to the team. People can get unpredictable when everything in their life shifts at once."
Garcia nodded seriously. "You think he might flip on us?"
"I don't know, but he's going through a lot of changes. I want you three to keep him company. Show him the ropes. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."
"We'll keep soldier boy out of trouble," Garcia grinned.
---
Several days later, a Quinjet pierced through the cloud cover above Siberia.
Mario pressed his face against the window. "You're absolutely sure Ivan is down there?"
From his vantage point, the entire landscape was nothing but snow and ice stretching to the horizon. No signs of civilization anywhere.
The aircraft began its descent, and Natasha sat beside him, manipulating data on her tablet. After several days working together, she'd gotten a good read on Mario's personality. He was vindictive, occasionally unhinged, and had an obsessive fixation on hunting vampires. Every night that he had free time, he'd prowl the streets looking for bloodsuckers to kill.
She'd also noticed his wandering eyes. As a trained operative, she could read his lustful thoughts like an open book.
"According to our investigation, we've confirmed that he is definitely here," she said, tapping the screen.
Mario's pulse quickened. Ivan was crucial to his long-term plans. With that brilliant engineer on his team, he'd never have to worry about power for his base, or even his refrigerator, ever again.
If Ivan knew I'm mainly recruiting him to keep my appliances running, he'd probably try to crack my skull open with a crowbar to see what kind of brain damage I'm working with.
As they descended further, Mario finally got a clear view of the settlement below. Dozens of wooden cabins were scattered across the area, their roofs heavy with accumulated snow. From above, they blended almost perfectly with the terrain, easy to miss if you weren't looking carefully.
Snowflakes continued falling from the sky, and not a single person was visible on the paths between buildings.
Natasha held out her tablet, displaying an aerial map of the village. She pointed to one particular structure.
"Your target is in that house. Based on his recent pharmaceutical purchases, his father's condition is critical."
Mario nodded, cross-referencing the location with his mini-map. "Of course it is. If his father were healthy, I wouldn't be in such a rush."
The Quinjet touched down with a slight jolt. He stood and headed for the exit. "I'm going to pay them a visit. Wait here for me."
Natasha rose as well, her expression serious. "Be careful. According to our profile, he has significant personality issues. Apart from his father, he barely interacts with anyone."
"Got it. I'll watch myself."
The hatch opened and arctic air rushed into the cabin. The flight crew all shivered involuntarily, but Mario, wearing just a thin shirt, felt no discomfort at all. He trudged through the deep snow toward Ivan's house, pulling out a shovel from his inventory as he walked. The snow was incredibly deep, perfect for his purposes.
Might as well stock up while I'm here. I can build a snowman later for unlimited snow production, he thought, scooping snowballs into his inventory.
Snow wasn't particularly useful in the game, but in reality, it was perfect for chilling beer and soda.
The snow was so deep it had buried half of the Vanko family's front door. He had to dig his way to the entrance.
---
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Inside, Ivan Vanko immediately frowned at the unexpected noise. Nobody ever visited their home, especially not during a blizzard.
He set down the food he'd been preparing for his father and stood up. "Father, wait here. I'll see who it is."
Anton lay on a decrepit wooden bed, looking on the verge of death. Forcing himself to speak, he said, "Ivan... be careful... cough cough!"
A violent coughing fit cut him off. Ivan nodded, gently patting his father's chest. "Don't worry."
Outside, Mario watched the white dot on his mini-map with puzzled expression. He knocked again, more insistently.
What's going on? Are they both asleep?
Just as the thought formed, he saw the dot begin moving toward the door. A grin spread across his face.
Creaaaak.
The door opened just a crack, and the black barrel of a shotgun emerged, pressing against his forehead.
Double-barreled shotgun. Russian hunting classic.
A gruff voice followed: "Who are you? What do you want here?"
Mario didn't flinch or show anger. Being confronted by an armed hermit in Siberia was perfectly reasonable, these people had to be tough to survive out here.
"My name's Mario. I'm here for you, Mr. Ivan. I want to offer you a job," he said calmly.
Ivan froze when Mario spoke his name, then spat through gritted teeth, "I don't want to work for anyone. Get lost!"
He started to pull the shotgun back and close the door.
"I don't think you'll be able to refuse what I'm offering."
The closing door stopped. Ivan's voice came from inside. "Money? Fuck off. I'd rather starve than take your blood money."
Mario raised an eyebrow. Oh, we're playing hard to get? Time to drop the trump card then.
"I can cure your father's illness."
The door flew open immediately. Mario finally got a clear look at Ivan, wearing a tattered winter coat, shoulder-length hair like Natasha's but streaked with premature gray. Though only in his thirties, he looked at least forty.
"If you're lying to me, I'll fucking kill you!" Ivan snarled.
Mario hated empty threats. Either shoot him or don't, but don't waste time with meaningless posturing.
"You know your father's condition better than anyone. Without me, he's got maybe a month left. Since you're about to work for me, let me teach you something: don't make violent threats before you understand who you're dealing with."
Before Ivan could react, Mario pulled his sniper rifle from his inventory and pressed it against Ivan's temple.
BANG!
The rifle's shot punched straight through the two-story cabin, tearing a fist-sized hole in the wall behind them. The supersonic crack was so loud that Ivan nearly passed out from shock, blood streaming from his ears.
While Ivan stood dazed, Mario snatched the shotgun and stored it in his inventory, then pulled out a healing potion and forced it down Ivan's throat.
"Try this on your father first. See if it works."
