Unless I'm Dead

Yuri was woken up by a call from the renovation company. They had agreed to meet at eight in the morning to open the door, but he had slept straight through until nine.

"We've been waiting here for half an hour!"

"So that means you're half an hour late?"

The two sides exchanged a glance and, by unspoken agreement, chose to skip over the topic of "who was actually late."

He helped carry the ordered shelves, sofas, and coffee tables into the house, then directed the burly Black uncles to place them in the correct positions.

Black people really did have a hard time finding work in the US. If they were undocumented immigrants from Mexico, it was even harder. Physically demanding jobs like moving were something white people generally avoided.

After swiping his card to pay the remaining balance without hesitation, the Black uncles climbed into the truck and drove off with a "whoosh."

Yuri greeted the old man from the neighboring bookstore who was sunbathing outside. The old man asked warmly, "Hey, young man! Figure out what business you're going to run yet? Don't tell me you're planning to steal business from an old geezer like me."

"Don't worry, sir."

Yuri walked over to the old man and pointed at the shelves in the glass display window. "I'm planning to open a handicraft shop. I'll sell some small trinkets I make myself."

The old man craned his neck to look at Yuri's three-story building, somewhat annoyed that Yuri was blocking the sunlight hitting his face. "Young man, you'd better go back and tidy up your place. Leave this time-wasting job of sunbathing to an old man like me."

"Yuri."

Yuri turned around and extended his hand to the old man. "It's an honor to be your neighbor."

"Rogers."

The old man took Yuri's hand and shook it cheerfully. "You made quite a racket last night. Almost kept this old man from getting any sleep."

Yuri apologized repeatedly, only stopping when he had firmly guaranteed it wouldn't happen again. Only then did the old man grunt in forgiveness.

After treating the white-haired old man to breakfast at the neighboring café, Yuri finally returned to his three-story building.

By now, the street was bustling with pedestrians. The honking of bicycles, motorcycles, and cars mixed with the chatter of passersby. All that noise was like a flood seeping through every crack, breaching the defense of the glass door.

"Soundproofing!"

"Soundproofing is a must!"

He casually called Mark, but the person who answered was a woman with a soft, seductive voice. That unlucky kid was just like the old man next door—hadn't slept all night. Except the old man had been receiving the noise, while Mark had been making it...

"Find a place to sleep last night?"

Mark opened with merciless mockery.

"Found one. In your mom's bed."

After a few rounds of banter, Yuri quickly steered the conversation back on track. "Help me get some materials. No limits on type or quantity. Deliver them to my new place tonight."

Mark took the pen the woman handed him and casually wrote down the address Yuri had given him on her butt. "OK, no problem. Anything else besides that?"

"Guns and ammo, whatever you want. I can even get you rocket launchers and grenades. If you want, you could totally become an illegal arms dealer!"

"NO! NO! NO!"

Yuri frantically shook his index finger on the other end of the phone. Bullshit illegal arms dealer. He was a proud MIT graduate. Only a brain-eaten-by-dogs idiot would choose to become an illegal arms dealer.

After emphasizing that Mark shouldn't bring any weird stuff over, Yuri decisively hung up. He waved his hand, disassembling several shelves into parts and controlling them to embed into the walls at the right positions.

Phastos's fortress hut used the principle of energy shields. That thing was beyond his current ability to build, but making some vibration isolation devices was easy as pie, something anyone could do.

All Eternal creations were inscribed with magical patterns. This allowed them, even after leaving their creator's control, to autonomously absorb ambient energy to maintain normal function.

After a faint tremor, the entire first floor fell into dead silence. Apart from Yuri's own breathing, he couldn't hear a single other sound.

After a few fine adjustments, the sound entering his ears reached the most comfortable decibels. Yuri clapped his hands in satisfaction, smiled, and clicked his tongue.

"NICE!"

"So, this is the device theoretically capable of blocking mental control, psychic interference, and the like?"

Tony picked up a palm-sized "chip" from the lab bench with his fingers. He squinted at it under the shadowless light on the ceiling, then handed it to the mechanical arm "Dummy" with satisfaction. "Jarvis, design a suitable hat for it. After tonight's press conference, I'll take it to meet that annoying Yuri and see if this cute little thing works as well as expected."

"Understood, sir."

In less than a second, Jarvis projected panoramic images of over a dozen different hat designs into the air before Tony's eyes. "Sir, I do not recommend you go in person. According to probability calculations, the safest method is to send a specialist to conduct the experiment."

"Your advice is sound, but I'm not taking it."

Tony quickly selected a vintage-style gentleman's hat that still oozed flair. He waved his hand, shattering the projection before him. "This one. Let me see what my dear junior Yuri can do now that he's lost his superpowers..."

"Beep!"

The door lock swiped open. Obadiah walked in, a thick, dark Cuban cigar clamped between his fingers. His face, which looked like it belonged to a villain, was plastered with genuine concern.

He hurried over, hugged Tony, and asked with concern, "Oh~ my good nephew. I heard you didn't sleep a wink last night? Let me guess, you invented some new weapon, right?"

"Haha, good morning."

Tony waved his hand to shut down the lab bench, deflecting the topic while laughing. "Trust me, I spent all of last night brewing. Tonight's press conference is definitely going to give you a big surprise!"

Obadiah let out an exaggerated laugh. The hand holding the cigar took a burger from a bodyguard. "You've worked so hard, Tony. Knowing you haven't eaten, I specially bought your favorite cheeseburger... Go on, have a taste."

Tony smiled and took it, smoothly escaping Obadiah's embrace. He tore open the wrapper, took a big bite, chewed a few times, and mumbled indistinctly, "Uncle Obadiah, after all these years, you still don't really know me. My favorite is the cheeseburger from the food truck downstairs, not the one you bought from the fast-food joint..."

Obadiah's steps faltered for a moment. He turned his head to study Tony's profile, half a step ahead, as if trying to find something new in a face he'd seen for over twenty years.

"People change, Tony."

"Maybe one day you'll suddenly take a liking to a cheeseburger from a fast-food joint."

Tony turned around to face Obadiah, walking backward. "That's impossible!"

"If every food truck selling cheeseburgers in the world hasn't vanished completely, there's only one way that could happen."

"And that's if I'm dead!"