Give Me 10 Vibrators

"Is Commissioner George also interested in the weapons developed by our Orange Industries?"

Seeing George Stacy's somewhat hesitant expression, Luca asked casually while walking toward the corner of the building.

There was a reason for his question.

As mentioned before, a large quantity of Chitauri weapons had been left behind in Manhattan following the Battle of New York.

This had led to a recent surge in violent crimes involving alien weaponry across the city.

The damage caused by these incidents was clearly on a level far beyond the petty crimes of the past.

Although the [Dominator] he had used earlier to blow up the truck was officially registered as a company prototype, it was actually just a failed high-energy particle gun that had served as a core component for the [Dominator].

However, to those in the dark, such a portable, high-powered weapon clearly held immense potential.

George Stacy, however, shook his head awkwardly.

"Er, that's not it. While I do think highly of your company's products, procurement is not something I can decide on my own."

Although George Stacy held significant authority as the NYPD commissioner, the issue of weapon orders required approval from various departments—finance, auditing, and logistics—within the NYPD, and the final decision had to go all the way up to the New York City Mayor's Office.

Not to mention the tedious procedures of bidding, tendering, and fiscal appropriation that followed. As commissioner, he had, at best, a minor advisory role.

However, Commissioner George didn't beat around the bush; after explaining the equipment issue, he continued.

"The truck driver you... injured was found to have a high concentration of alcohol in his system. It's clear he was drinking continuously while driving."

"What? Does Commissioner George think this incident was just an accident?" Luca asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

"No, no. In fact, the investigation revealed that the alcohol was mostly in his stomach and intestines, meaning it hadn't even been fully absorbed yet. We suspect the driver was using the intoxication as a cover for his crime."

"My personal assessment is that there is a high probability this was a premeditated, malicious attack."

Shamira, standing to the side, rolled her eyes. Did they really need to be told such an obvious thing so solemnly?

Commissioner George ignored Shamira's expression and kept his gaze fixed on Luca, continuing without pause.

"As for your claim that the mastermind behind the attack might be related to your uncle, Mr. Dragan Orange, that remains unconfirmed. However, our police force will do our utmost to find the true culprit and bring them to justice."

"So, I hope Mr. Orange will continue to cooperate with our investigation."

Luca raised an eyebrow and handed over his business card.

In fact, he had already left Shamira's contact information at the precinct earlier; handing over his own card now was a gesture of his recognition of George Stacy.

"Then I thank Commissioner George in advance for seeking justice for me."

Seeing the card held out before him, George Stacy hesitated for a moment before accepting it, then bid him farewell.

As Luca watched him walk back toward the police station, he couldn't help but feel that the man's hurried approach wasn't just to discuss these few points.

In truth, Luca had chosen to report the incident and cooperate with the police—even going so far as to mention his uncle, Dragan—precisely because he wanted to use the police intervention as a two-pronged approach to flush out whoever was standing behind Dragan.

Yes, even though he hadn't confirmed the attacker's identity, he had already pinned the incident on his cheap uncle.

Otherwise, Luca didn't believe in such coincidences—that he would be involved in a car accident right after being provoked by the man.

And if it turned out that Dragan wasn't responsible?

Then he would have simply killed two birds with one stone; after all, it was the NYPD's resources being spent, and he had nothing to lose.

After watching George Stacy leave, another car sent by the company arrived to wait outside the precinct.

Once inside, Luca leaned back against the seat, feeling a wave of exhaustion.

Between the funeral and the car accident, the entire day had left him drained.

In fact, because his mother, Gina, had been hospitalized, Luca had been spending his days at the hospital.

On top of that, he had been busy managing his father's funeral, forcing him to put many other matters on hold.

Now that this had happened, he had a premonition that his future life would be anything but peaceful.

"By the way, Aunt Shamira, have the things I ordered arrived?"

"Young Master, I had them prepared yesterday, but because of... well, the funeral today, I had them stacked in the living room for the time being."

Luca nodded, but then his gaze drifted to the brand-new prosthetic limb Tony Stark had given him.

Or rather, to the pale blue panel floating above it.

Yes, the previous "core components" only triggered the synthesis panel when he touched them, so they didn't affect him otherwise.

However, because this mechanical prosthetic was attached directly to his arm, it remained in a constant state of contact.

Luca didn't know how to dismiss the panel, so the bright, pale blue interface kept bobbing along with his arm.

Although it had no "collision volume" and its translucent state didn't obstruct his vision, the glowing white arm and the glaring blue panel gave him a constant urge to reach out and tap it to see what would happen.

I have to synthesize this thing as soon as possible. Why is this glowing light so unsettling?

With that thought, Luca checked the "synthesis materials" required on the panel and spoke again.

"Aunt Shamira, I'm sorry to trouble you again, but please contact the company's logistics department. Have them send over five different models of grappling hook guns and five types of small hydraulic actuators under 50 centimeters."

Luca paused slightly at this point.

He was busy speculating in his mind what exactly could qualify as a "miniature therapy device" according to the synthesis panel's criteria.

"Oh, and also order a low-to-medium frequency therapy device, a microwave therapy device for the neck and shoulders, a laser and infrared moxibustion diagnostic device, and a magnetic therapy bracelet, one of each. Make sure they are all the smallest models available on the market; the specific intensity and brand don't matter."

Although Shamira was somewhat puzzled by his request, she meticulously recorded every requirement Luca mentioned.

She knew that ever since his father passed away, Young Master Luca had been working hard to research and tinker with these strange things.

He had collected quite a lot of various materials and equipment.

And it wasn't without results; at least that magical handgun the young master called the [Dominator] was something he had "crafted" all on his own without her knowing.

Shamira didn't understand scientific research, but she was crystal clear about the miraculous power that weapon displayed during testing.

In Shamira's heart, Young Master Luca was now a super scientific genius comparable to his late father.

Therefore, even if the materials Luca requested were strange, she never hesitated in the slightest when preparing them.

After all, the world of a genius is always a bit hard to understand.

Just when Shamira thought that was all the young master needed this time, Luca glanced at the last type of "synthesis consumable" on the panel and spoke again in a flat tone.

"Also, get me 10 different models and specifications of vibrators!"

"????"