"As expected. So they now call it, the old shipping docks night massacre. I knew the NYPD couldn't totally control the media," Joe casually sipped his bitter coffee as he watched the news.

"Such a major occurrence can't stay airtight; you know that very well, Mr. Perpetrator." Minerva chipped in, her voice was as sarcastic as always.

"I know, I know. It's only yesterday that all that happened and now...now the media and the victims that had been traumatized by Rhino and his syndicate are steadily availing themselves. They all have gotten that window of opportunity to project their pent-up grievances." Joe put the cup down as the camera focused on a group of people congregating at Times Square. It was both a commemoration of the departed souls and a much-needed celebration of Rhino's brutal demise.

"Leaks of the murder scene have already started circulating on social media platforms," Minerva reported.

"Oh? That's honestly quick. Someone must have messed up with the NYPD's database or maybe took a trip to the coroner's office." Joe slightly smiled at the thought.

"Also, there's a rather competent Detective that's in charge of the massacre's investigation," Minerva added.

Joe's brows quirked in surprise, his mouth wide open. "Wow, that's unexpected. They're going to have a difficult time trying to crack such an almost unsolvable case."

"So what's their name?"

"They call her Detective Becker. She started off her police career as a local officer in Los Angeles, then worked her way up and became a high-profile detective. She's quite something when it comes to her job. From my surface analysis and all the information I have scoured about her... she's fixated on homicidal murderers. Let's say, her fate with psychopathic criminals is rather strong."

An indiscernible glint shone from Joe's eyes as he let the report settle inside his mind. 'Detective Becker? I don't have any recollection of such a person. Maybe from the comics. Nah, perhaps it's just a coincidence in this unpredictable universe.'

"What's her full name?" Joe asked curiously as he massaged his stubbled chin. 'Man, I need to shave.'

"She goes by Chloé Monnet Decker."

"Chloe Decker, huh? Now that's a name I didn't expect to hear in this universe."

"Do you know her? Your tone suggests that you have some form of understanding toward this person. However, I don't understand why you're talking as if you don't belong to this universe."

"Are you suggesting that I'm an alien?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Hmph, her name just sounds familiar to me, but I don't remember where I've heard it from," Joe explained vaguely. 'The fuck's with that name. Am I in Marvel or DC? Isn't Chloe Decker, Lucifer's bitch? Perhaps they just share the same name. Damn, but they have the same occupation and she just had to come from LA.'

'Interesting. I hope I'm just overthinking.'

"What's the status update on the warehouse hunting?" Joe swiftly changed the subject.

"I have found one. It's from an Italian businessman who seems to be in a rush to leave the States and go back to his homeland. His background's clean, but he's drowning in debt."

"So, he's desperate and in dire need of money. How convenient. Set up a meeting with him and handle the payment processing. I need to see the state of what I'm buying. Minerva, I hope it's not too shabby and in need of massive repairs."

"Trust the source. I only choose the best, but it's best if you see it for yourself."

It was roughly past noon when Joe met with Giuseppe, the former warehouse's owner. He was a middle-aged man in his late forties with a balding head. Guiseppe honestly explained everything about the warehouse and even went as far as to expose some of his dilemmas in Italian. Thank goodness, Joe was multi-linguistic and hadn't slept during the Italian lessons from Luigi. At least, the current him wouldn't have any problem fluidly communicating when he lands in any European country, Latin America, and some Asian countries. Good thing, Guiseppe didn't care about his background or young age.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Anyway, the deal over the ownership of the warehouse was finalized without any hitches. Since it was around Forest Hills, it wasn't that far from his home and he could just ride a bike. Talking about bikes, Joe really needed to buy his own ride. Perhaps something he could tinker with and weaponize the shit out of.

The warehouse had been well-maintained and didn't require much repairs. It made Joe feel that his $699,000 had been perfectly spent. However, the real money-siphoning step was furnishing the warehouse with everything he required for his experiments. But you know what?

Two days later. Queens, New York.

"Joe, the warehouse has been fully furnished and customized to your tastes. I've procured every state-of-the-art equipment within the allocated budget and had everything set up." Minerva's voice sounded through his Airpods as he calmly ran on the lone road. He was doing his usual morning runs when Minerva dared to ruin his playlist streak. However, since Minerva was a darling, Joe couldn't do shit about it and she knew it. She didn't shy away from taking advantage of him.

"Alright, I'll swing by immediately after taking a shower and eating something," Joe replied, his breath steady and strong despite the lengthy distances he had just covered.

An hour later, Joe was back in his apartment, casually dressed up in an elegant white and black outfit.

"Minerva, it's time. Will you walk with me or do you want me to carry you on the back of my new Harley?" Joe grinned as he walked out of his apartment with a classic black jacket in hand.

"I swear."

"Swear on what?"

"Once I get physical, you'll wish you didn't mock me."

"Hahaha, attagirl."

"Remember I'm saving this grievance."

"Oh dear, you're not winning against me."

"We will see."

"As if I'm blind, Gee."

"..."

Outside his apartment building, Joe gazed at the beauty in front of him. She was majestic, shiny, black, and could ride him to high heavens. Parked near the curb was a brand new Harley Davidson, Nightrider Turbo model. She cost him 41 grand just so he could ride her.

"It's really a blessing I didn't have to sell my kidneys," Joe softly chuckled as he walked toward the Harley and gracefully climbed it. Without dilly-dallying, he took the shimmering black helmet and wore it.

'Now, I feel like Magneto or Sebastian Shaw with the anti-telepathy helmet.' Joe shook his head lightly and started revving up the stunner. His ears were greeted by the familiar roars of the engine waking up and he couldn't be more happier. The gears turning made his whole being go turbo. He looked forward to the riding experience.

"You and I, Harley...we are speed!" Joe kicked the kickstand and tapped into the speed force. Before long, his figure was like a blur as he raced against the wind. A manic grin graced his covered face as his heart thumbed with excitement. He felt alive and free. He was liberated.

...

In the renovated warehouse filled with state-of-the-art mass spectrometers, rows of high-definition displays, and other high-tech machines, Joe's eyes darted to the real-time analytical readings of the complex molecular structures. Presented on the holographic display was a 3D model breakdown of NZT-48. Joe studied the atoms and the interrelated bonds between them. With a flick of his hand, he zoomed in on the base structure.

"Can you show me the spectrometry analysis?" Joe began walking around the holographic molecular fragments.

"There's α-methylphenethylamine, formaldehyde, synthetic acetylcholine, loprazolum, neuroactive steroids...hmm, I didn't expect the list to be quite overwhelming."

"The core structure resembles modafinil analogs, but more... sophisticated," Joe muttered as he circled the spectroscopic data.

"Minerva, can you draw up NZT-to-brain simulations and show me the neurological interactions? I want to see how it increases brain plasticity and—"

"The side effects? By chance, did you consume NZT-48?" Minerva cut him off.

"What if I did?"

"You have condolences."

Joe frowned, wondering what she was up to. Sensing his slight dissatisfaction, Minerva decided to do away with the lightheartedness.

"Umm, ahem, sorry for the unprofessionalism."

Joe's frown gradually morphed into an understanding smile.

"You were going to say something, right? Continue... please."

Joe shook his head while crossing his arms. "You've already got it figured out, right?"

"H-How did you know?"

"I am your father, Minerva."

A hologram of a smiling beautiful young woman with an undeniable resemblance to Joe and her own unique features like her blue skin, materialized.

"I have already finalized the compilation of all the data from the spectrometer and NMR analysis. Well, from the millions of simulations I've run, I found a way to make the biochemical neuroactivity stable enough to make NZT-48 permanent. Isn't that cool?"

"If we can boost the protein binding to 200%..."

Joe sighed heavily, making Minerva stop her ramblings.

"Did I say something wrong?" Minerva asked, her voice filled with immense worry as her hologram tried to touch Joe only for her hand to phase through him. An unreadable expression flashed on her face when she realized she had done something stupid. She was just a digital construct and wasn't capable of tactile response. Joe, amazed and shocked by Minerva's brilliance, didn't notice this.

"Minerva, have you already worked on the agent to protect against neurodegenerative damage?"

"Yes. Virtually everything."

Joe's eyes gleamed with excitement as he started pacing around.

"Then what are we waiting for? I'm starting the clinical trials today before we jump straight into production of NZT-99."

And thus began the trials and after two weeks of multiple failures, NZT-99, the modified upgraded version of NZT-48, was manufactured!

….

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