Chapter 4: The Purple Man?

The development of this world did not unfold as Lynn had anticipated, but at least some events followed a trajectory that wasn't too far off. Jessica Jones was definitely taken by the Purple Man in this world.

And it happened back when she was in high school.

"What shocks me is that this guy actually stayed nearby to control her, never even considering fleeing the scene."

Lynn hadn't expected the Purple Man to linger at the site of his crime, and considering her age when it happened, the Purple Man had made his move far too early.

"She’s still just a high schooler who just lost her entire family, and considering the Purple Man, her adoptive family in this world is likely finished as well."

Lynn often wondered what Jessica Jones would have become in this universe if he hadn't intervened, but based on his own experience, a high school girl tortured by a supervillain from a young age would clearly struggle to become anything resembling a decent person.

The mercenaries, having knocked Jectol to the ground with their first volley of fire, were now inspecting his "corpse."

One mercenary approached slowly, his Vector submachine gun aimed steadily at the body. He was quite cautious. But caution is only effective against humans; against something non-human, caution alone is of little use.

A massive hand burst from beneath the skin, and with immense force, it crushed the mercenary's helmet in an instant. The man didn't even have time to groan or scream. Under Jectol's manipulation, the mercenary's spine was ripped from his body.

Simultaneously, even more intense gunfire erupted from the other muzzles, but these human-grade projectiles clearly could not penetrate the Zoanoid's defenses.

Amidst the hail of bullets, Jectol rose. His entire body was protected by chitinous armor, and his compound eyes revealed no emotion; as a human, one couldn't even tell where his gaze was fixed. He looked like a humanoid stag beetle.

"Finish them."

Upon receiving Lynn's command, the pitch-black giant moved without hesitation, showing no signs of sluggishness despite its massive size. Before the remaining mercenaries could even react, a giant fist had sent one man's head flying like a ball, his remaining body swaying twice before collapsing to the ground like a broken marionette. The submachine gun in his hand was still firing.

But such violent death did not deter the other mercenaries, even though their hands and feet were trembling. Mind control left them no way to retreat or run; they had to annihilate this enemy they were completely powerless to fight.

It was destined to be a one-sided battle. Lynn didn't pay much attention; the slaughter would end soon. What Lynn wanted to find was someone else. He had been trying to locate someone like the Purple Man in the vicinity, but clearly, he hadn't found him.

Without hesitation, he retracted his power. The purple psionic glow was quite conspicuous, and he didn't want to overuse it.

"He might not even be in this block at all. That makes sense; given his caution, he wouldn't come here personally. There will only ever be proxies."

A few minutes later, Jectol was picking up the clothes of one of the mercenaries. After all, he didn't have the Hulk’s miraculous pants when transformed into his Zoanoid form; he was looking for clothes on the dead men. Lynn arrived at the crime scene right on cue. The mercenaries had all been decapitated.

"Find their identification and set it aside."

He didn't feel fear or nausea at the horrific scene. After all, early in his transmigratory life, he had vomited many times after seeing Blade send vampire heads flying in front of a fried chicken shop.

Through the IDs they carried, Lynn confirmed these guys were indeed mercenaries from Symkaria—professional, fast, expensive, and ruthless. Although they had a pile of identification, Lynn knew only the Symkarian ones were real; that documentation had the most authentic sense of age. Besides that, Lynn found a hotel key card.

"North-Cinks Hotel..."

The Purple Man's mind control required periodic reinforcement, which he had to achieve through vocal commands. Therefore, he had to show his face at the mercenaries' base.

Lynn soon walked into a house across from Jessica's place. The owner opened the door to welcome him, as they were currently under Lynn's mental control. But likewise, they had never seen the Purple Man. Lynn hadn't expected to find anything in their thoughts, anyway. What Lynn needed was evidence.

"Surveillance..."

The security camera at this family's front door had been dismantled long ago; the storage had likely been destroyed as well. Anything Lynn could think of, the Purple Man could naturally think of too. Centered on Jessica's house, almost everyone had removed their front-door cameras. It seemed nothing useful could be found in this neighborhood.

He shook his head and walked over to the mercenaries.

"Only a room card and car keys, boss."

"Let's go to the hotel..."

Driving a black pickup truck toward the North-Cinks Hotel, Lynn pondered how to flush out the Purple Man. This guy's power was incredibly convenient; if he wanted to hide, there was no way to pinpoint his location other than through technology. And surveillance, within the reach of his power, was the least secure thing of all.

The drive didn't take long. Lynn arrived at the main entrance of the North-Cinks Hotel, tossed the keys to the valet, pulled a few bills from his storage space, and handed them over. He then let Jectol head straight to the point with the key card.

Room 1102. Lynn only hoped he was fast enough. Meanwhile, holding onto the hope of trying his luck, he headed toward the hotel's security room. However, he was soon stopped by a security guard.

"Sir, this is not..."

But as Lynn’s purple psionic energy invaded his brain, the guard smiled and led him toward the security room. Lynn got the result he expected.

"So, the surveillance for the entire day is missing?"

"Yes, boss. We've been losing footage frequently lately. It’s strange; our equipment is fine. We had the manufacturer's technicians come to check it."

After all, it wasn't a technical issue at all. There probably weren't any more clues here. It was better to check the room where these mercenaries were staying.

The entire hotel room was in chaos. It seemed these guys didn't like room service; there were plenty of contraband items inside, along with the firearms the mercenaries used to resolve crises. But Lynn found no clues.

Other than being dirty and messy, the mercenaries' room was as clean as a blank sheet of paper. Once the Purple Man’s power failed and he could no longer make contact via information channels, he would absolutely never revisit the scene.

"Does this guy really have the persistence to go block by block, house by house? If so, I’ll never find him..." Lynn thought while sitting in the room.

"The difficulty of tracking him is too high. I’m not someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. who can cast a net over the world. Relying on primitive methods probably won't work. Maybe forget it?"

Lynn seemed to have thought of something.

"He hasn't seen me. I'm a school teacher now. Maybe some slight mockery can bait him into taking the hook."

The Purple Man was, to a significant extent, a psychopath. Although Lynn hadn't met him in this world yet, judging by the situation, this guy could go to such great lengths to obtain a high school girl.

"A pervert's self-esteem is always easy to prick, and their possessiveness is always strong. But where should I say this?"

Lynn looked out the window. Soon, he spotted a somewhat familiar man.

"The police almost caught the masked pervert, Spider-Man, in his red and blue spandex! Your doom is coming!"

J. Jonah Jameson's voice didn't reach Lynn's ears—the hotel's soundproofing was excellent—but Lynn saw the giant screen. That's right, that giant screen; everyone in New York could see it.

Lynn didn't stay at the hotel long. After wiping the memories of a few people, he left the hotel and had the security guard delete the day's footage. After a while, when Lynn confirmed no one had returned to that room, he left the North-Cinks Hotel and returned to his fried chicken shop to take out all his cash. He had to find a way to make the Purple Man send another group of people to find him. The more danger he faced, the more little tails the Purple Man would leave behind.

"Using a giant screen to insult him—maybe it's cliché, but it's very direct. Also, maybe I can go check with the local gangs. The Purple Man won't let her stay in one place forever."

Lynn had a rough plan in his mind. He took out a map of New York. However, while Lynn was thinking about which areas to target, Jessica Jones's house had other visitors. Although Lynn had disposed of the bodies in time, he had been in a hurry, and he left quite a few traces—at least the bullet holes and damaged walls couldn't be repaired.

Two police officers stood at the entrance of the Jones house, looking at the mess. Lynn had stuffed the bodies into the car, but he clearly hadn't had time to clean up the bloodstains. Or rather, he hadn't cleaned them on purpose. He needed the police to notice the disappearance of the entire Jones family so that he could find clues at the police station that he didn't currently possess.

"Should we call for backup?"

"Or should we seal off the scene first?"

The next morning, Lynn arrived at Midtown High School as scheduled. He put the Jessica and Purple Man matter aside for now; he had classes to teach. Lying in his basement the previous night, he had received the next day's schedule in his inbox.

With his lesson plan and schedule basically prepared, Lynn sat early in his biology classroom.

"Mr. Sidis, you seem to be very good at teaching?"

"Ms. Marge, I’m not very good at it, but one always has to learn, right?"

"Ho ho, you’re too modest, Mr. Sidis. I won't bother you anymore; class is about to start."

With that, Marge carried her snacks and walked toward her classroom. Lynn stayed in his. Soon, he welcomed his first batch of students. Kids were the same everywhere, walking into the classroom talking and laughing. They were surprised by the sudden appearance of the new teacher, and one particularly bold girl even chatted with Lynn during the break.

"Mr. Sidis, are you from Nevada?"

"How did you know?"

It was the first time Lynn learned he had a Nevada accent. Then again, how could a New York local only own a single fried chicken shop?

"My mom has a Nevada accent too, just like you, haha."

"Hmm..." Lynn recalled the girl's name for a moment. Looking at her healthy, wheat-colored skin, her thick, dark long hair, and a face that seemed completely out of sync with a student girl's, he noticed a different kind of tenacity beneath her youthful, moving face.

"Ms. Ayala, it's getting late. If you don't have questions about the assignment, you'd better..."

"Uh... actually, I do have a few small questions."

Ava Ayala. Lynn remembered her name, and a faint, long-lost memory flickered in his mind, but he didn't recall everything in the end.

"Hmm, of course, about today's topic?"

"Of course not, Mr. Sidis. Your class is very simple and easy to understand. In fact, it’s better than most biology teachers I've seen." Ava held her textbook, feeling a bit awkward. "I wanted to ask, I suspect something is radioactive. Is there any way to test it besides a Geiger counter?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Uh, just asking?"

"If something is highly radioactive, then you yourself are the best monitoring method. Expose yourself to high radiation for five hours, and you'll start feeling dizzy; exceed ten hours, and your DNA will start to break down." Lynn spoke of basic science, though in the Marvel Universe, cosmic rays didn't necessarily kill; they might create superhumans.

"Is... is that so?" Lynn noticed her subtly tightening her grip on something in her pocket.

"But there are exceptions. Who can say for sure about this world? That good neighbor who swings between skyscrapers on TV every day might just be someone who underwent some benign mutations?" Lynn joked. He had checked; there was no radiation source on Ava. Considering her actions, the thing she was gripping must be the object she wanted to consult about.

"It's getting late. You need to get to the next classroom, Ms. Ayala." Lynn patted her on the shoulder and walked out of the classroom with her. "However, I must remind you that radioactive elements are very dangerous. If you discover any of the above situations, it's best to go to the hospital immediately; that might save your life. The things I mentioned didn't happen to your family, did they?"

"No, no, Mr. Sidis. I just wanted to ask."

After that, Lynn sent Ava off and began organizing his teaching materials, waiting for the next batch of students. After a morning and a lunch break, Lynn finally waited for an acquaintance.

Peter Parker wasn't listening to anything he said during class; after all, this guy was a straight-A student, busy borrowing materials from school to make his high-performance web fluid. And Thompson, who didn't know he was Spider-Man yet, wasn't listening either. He was holding his phone, watching Spider-Man videos and making weird noises, looking like a number-one fan.

Lynn had no choice but to move him to the back row and put his phone at the door. Although Flash had the demeanor of a school bully, he didn't argue with Lynn; he sat silently in the back row and shut his mouth.

After class, Peter stared at Lynn with interest at the door, seemingly wanting to say something, but after hearing Mary Jane's voice, he was dragged away by Harry. After all, he hadn't met Lynn; it was Spider-Man who had met Lynn.

The day's classes ended quickly. In the afternoon, while Lynn was tidying up the classroom, Marge came over again and handed him a bag of small cookies. Lynn noticed that Marge also had a Nevada accent. Perhaps that was why she often brought snacks?

Purple psionic fluctuations slowly spread out. Unnoticed, Lynn slightly treated the gout in Marge's foot, then smiled and accepted the cookies. Closing the classroom door and carrying his things, Lynn prepared to leave Midtown High.

"Is the stuff delivered?" Lynn asked Jectol.

"Tom finished the task. By now, the giant screens should be looping the video you recorded, boss."

"Very good."

At the same time, large screens in many parts of New York began playing the missing person notice Lynn had recorded. Lynn was naturally not a good person, but the thing he hated most was a psychopath—especially a psychopath who would put his thoughts into action. He had already contacted Jessica Jones out of curiosity; the Purple Man would definitely want to do something.

There was no sense in guarding against a thief for a thousand days. Lynn intended to strike first and kill the Purple Man. To do this, finding him was definitely the first thing that needed to be done.

"The culprit is definitely a pedophile, a narcissist, an egoist, and a psychopath lacking necessary education since childhood. I can't believe what would happen if my student fell into that situation, and I can't believe the police didn't even notice this..."

A long string of American profanity followed, listing almost every adjective that normal people hated. At this moment, a man was standing by a floor-to-ceiling window. The giant screen outside and TV commercials were playing the missing person notice Lynn had recorded. On the double bed beside him was Jessica Jones, wearing black silk pajamas.

She stared wide-eyed at Kilgrave, her eyes filled with an indescribable mix of emotions: fear, anger, despair, unwillingness. But all in all, there wasn't a single positive emotion to be seen. If a gaze could kill the Purple Man, he would surely have died many times over.

The Purple Man's face was quite ugly. He gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, and rage had rushed to the top of his head; it seemed he might explode at any moment.

However, Lynn didn't care about the Purple Man's feelings. He was watching the TV, which was playing news about the Stark Group. Tony Stark stood spiritedly in the middle of a desert, though it was unclear where the footage came from. The playboy was once again the center of attention.

"He still has to make a bomb for a group of terrorists who can't even connect a lightbulb. I estimate he won't be able to fly out for at least a month."

Lynn shook his head, pulled down the shutters of the fried chicken shop, and prepared to sleep.