Chapter 26 The right to bear Small Arms

Though my meeting with Alexandra had left my brain spinning at highway speeds as it tried to come up with plots and plans and contingencies, my feet kept on carrying me towards my meeting with Pym Technologies, which would take place at Hogarth's office building, roughly two blocks away from where Madam Gao had kicked me out of the car.

I still had a job to do.

I promised Hogarth after all.

While I could easily outrun the cars in this urban traffic jam, running across the street like that could get me a ticket for jaywalking, even if the cops couldn't bill me for breaking the speed limit.

Now, getting a ticket for a few dozen bucks from the police in itself wasn't really something worth worrying about (I'm still getting used to the idea that I actually have money to spare now, it's so awesome!), but Stark was clearly itching to throw down with me if his press-statement was anything to go by, so the more squeaky clean I could present myself as, the less ammunition his army of lawyers had to try and drag my image down.

Then again, outrunning cars on the sidewalk wasn't likely to do me any favors from the general public either.

The solution?

Why, take to the rooftops, naturally.

It had taken me just two leisurely wall jumps in an alleyway in order to reach the roof of a six story building, and then I was off, powerful sprints throwing up gravel behind me as I dashed to the edge of the building, enormous muscles bulging as I jumped from rooftop to rooftop with ease, crossing tens of feet at a time.

God, I love parkour.

It took me all of five minutes before I saw Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz looming up across the street, so I put on even more speed and the moment I hit the edge of the building I was on, I jumped with enough force to crack the brickwork underneath my feet.

Oops.

Meh, who'd bother to come up there to check the floor anyways?

Any and all property damage was quickly pushed away from my mind however, as once again I was flying through the air with my stomach doing flips in my belly and my heart jack-hammering away in my throat as I realized that I had underestimated my strength.

'One of these days I really should test my limits in a controlled environment. Figure out just what I can do.' I thought wryly to myself as the ground came up to meet me with the speed of roughly 10 meters per second squared.

In other words: fast.

I landed on the pavement with an almighty crash, though thankfully this time I didn't do any damage to the surface, mostly because I skidded along a few steps, jogging to a halt.

Looking around, I saw that I had overshot my mark, as I had intended to land on the pavement in front of the big steps leading towards the large double doors. Instead, as I looked to my left, I saw a completely stunned security guard standing frozen next to the door as he stared at me with his mouth hanging wide open.

Looking in front of me, I realized that I had cleared the entirety of the main street, landing right before the entrance to the office building, close enough that I had ruffled the guard's clothing. Trying to play it cool as if I had intended to land this precisely (who knows, with how advanced my brain was, I just might have calculated this on a subconscious level) I turned back to the gobsmacked security guard with a raised eyebrow and a nonchalant smile.

"Nice weather we're having, right? Have a nice day." I said while nonchalantly walking through the doors as he kept staring at me like I was some kind of exotic creature.

And while it was a kind of accurate description (technically I was the only one of my species after all) getting stared at so openly like that made me somewhat uncomfortable, so I continued my way through towards the enormous lobby with hurried strides (though normies probably would've called my speed a jog).

Surprisingly, Darren Cross was already inside waiting for me, standing alone at the desk flirting with the secretary, a practised smile on his face. While I had asked for him to come alone, I'd expected for him to bring a lot more people as his retinue anyways.

While he might be the CEO of Pym Technologies and what we were discussing wasn't as big like say a merger or something, I had very much doubted that his board of directors would just let him run off from San Francisco to New York on his own to go talk to the monstrous looking guy that had pissed of the Iron Man himself without them there present to get something out of it for themselves as well.

Apparently my promise to help him with recreating Pym Particles really put me in his good books if he decided to ditch them all and meet me in person as I had asked him to.

Which made completing my objective here a lot easier for multiple reasons, one of the biggest being of course that I wasn't willing to share what I was planning to use to convince Cross with, with more people than absolutely necessary, and some unnamed background characters were definitely not considered necessary in my book.

Hypocritical of me to think that way considering my motivation when I was reborn, perhaps, but that was just the reality of the situation.

However, it was also beneficial because working with someone who wasn't hostile to you just went much more pleasantly, and subverting an individual is in some ways easier than subverting a group. Which meant it would be easier to sway Cross to my side now that he's here on his own, than if he was being held back by the doubts of other business men.

But the primary reason why I was so pleased that he had followed my politely worded request was because it revealed to me that Cross really wanted the Pym Particles and was willing to forgo all the corporate bullshit just to get me working on it as fast as possible.

The man was obsessed, and considering the deals he was fishing for with his Yellowjacket suit, probably getting desperate for a working solution as well.

Good.

I can work with desperate.

All of this monologuing shot through my brain like lightning and not even a second had passed before I engulfed Cross' hand in my own enormous paw, placing the other one on his shoulder as I gave him a bright smile.

"Darren! How nice to finally meet you! I'm really looking forward to seeing just what amazing new technological marvels we can create by combining the efforts of Titan Solutions and Pym Technologies."

"Hello Mr. McCole, the pleasure is mine. And it's CrossTechnologies, actually. Or, it will be, once the paperwork is through that is." Cross replied with an eager grin, and it wasn't difficult for me to figure out why.

Under Cross' management, profits for Pym Technologies had risen (mostly because unlike Hank, Darren was willing to sell everything to everyone) but innovation had stopped, leading many on the market to question how Pym Technologies would continue to remain profitable.

Meanwhile, Titan Solutions was apparently innovative enough that it got Tony Stark of all people back in the game again, repurposing his Iron Man technology for the public good.

Yes, a partnership must have sounded like music to Cross' ears when Hogarth managed to get a hold of him.

"Oho, Cross Technologies, is it? Congratulations Darren, it seems as if you continue to rise up in the world." I said smoothly, plying him with honeyed words as I led him further inside Jeri's headquarters.

Meanwhile, I kept trying to remember whether he moved as openly as he did against Hank Pym this early in the "canon" timeline. No, right? I'm pretty sure that he only rebranded the company during the events of Ant-Man, which would be three years from now. My memory was through the roof ever since Sterns upgraded my brain, but even so it had been well over twenty years since I had been born in this universe, and Marvel Studios had been going at it for a decade before I somehow ended up switching universes, meaning that little details were getting increasingly difficult to recall.

'Holy shit, it's been thirty years since I first saw Iron Man!'

I was shaken from my sudden realization when my question answered itself as Cross replied in a proud voice, walking with me to the elevator, basking in the awed looks that Jeri's staff were sending us (or mostly me, actually, but I doubt someone like Cross would've liked anyone bursting his bubble by telling him that).

"Well, seeing your company burst onto the scene like it did, challenging Stark of all people, especially after what happened to Hammer… well, it made me realize something." Cross explained, as I pressed the button for the elevator, before turning back to him, being greeted by a secretive smile on his face that was probably meant to convey that the two of us were in league somehow, but instead just ended up looking like he had a nervous tic.

"There's no need to keep bowing down to the older generation. They are just that: old. Obsolete, even. The future is now, and if it is to be ours then it needs to be shaped by us as well, not by fossils that think they know better than us." He said with a wink, and it took every bit of my monumental control not to just burst out in laughter at his pathetic attempt to sound sage and wise, instead giving a grave nod in agreement.

'God, not taking Jessica with me might just be the smartest move I've ever made. She'd either laugh in his face, or throw him out the window within the first five minutes.'

Thankfully, I was saved by any further "advice" as the elevator finally arrived, and from there it was a short trip to the conference room Hogarth had set aside for my use. While somewhat bland (though that might just be my personal distaste for everything corporate shining through) it was very spacious and offered a nice view on the impressive skyline of New York, Stark Tower jutting towards the heavens as a glittering monument of glass and steel to one man's ego, and I found myself standing in front of the full-length windows with my hands clasped behind my back.

Spotting movement from my side, I half turned to find Cross standing there with a hungry smile on his face and offering me a glass of whiskey, holding one himself as well, taken from the small drink cabinet that had been sitting in one of the corners of the room.

While I did not care much for the taste (not to mention any lack of effect it would have on me anyways) it would be a simple courtesy to accept the drink, as refusing it would only serve to wound Cross' easily bruised pride, and things would just go so much easier if he was working for me willingly, if unknowingly.

Clinking our glasses together (me using every ounce of control I had to not smash both of them apart with just a fraction of my superstrength) I gave him the most gleaming, enthusiastic smile I could manage.

And considering the lengths I'm willing to go to in order to achieve omnipotence, talking business with a weasel like Cross is something that I can manage just fine, so the smile came out big and appearing genuine.

"Cheers!"

"To good business!" Cross said in return, and after a quick gulp of the whiskey (nope, still tasted like gasoline to me, just like it always had in both my lives), we sat down at the large table, Cross shifting in his chair in a (failed) attempt to look important.

'Right, time to execute Step 13: get Darren Cross to release his research into Pym Particles to me. For fuck's sake, Step 13?! I should've been omnipotent already!'

"So-"

"So how far are you in recreating the Pym Particles?" I cut in, causing Cross to suddenly become very still as he gives me a wide-eyed look that was somewhat reminiscent of a deer looking at oncoming headlights.

Coming on this strong in such a blunt manner was risky, yes, but my advanced brain had kept on analysing Cross and his mannerisms and micro-expressions from the moment I entered the building, and I soon realized that my earlier assessment was correct.

Darren Cross was getting desperate.

Not desperate enough to turn a co-worker into goo in the restroom, but he was steadily getting there.

So, keep him on the back foot with sudden questions that show that I know more than should be possible, while simultaneously drawing him in with promises of power and prestige.

"What do you know about the Pym Particles?" Cross asks wearily after a few tense moments, drawing a half smile from me.

'Countering a question with a question, making sure that you neither confirm nor deny. Well, no-one ever said you were dumb. Completely bat-shit, sure, but not dumb.'

"I know that you think the Ant-Man is real. I know that you think he was using Pym Particles. And I know that you've trying to replicate it. The keyword here being trying. And that's where I come in."

"Really? In what way?" Cross asks in response, and while his tone and answer are guarded, my brain picks up the way he leans slightly forwards, the way his eyes light up as he studies me intently, the way one hand subconsciously starts tugging on one of his cufflinks.

I got him interested.

"Darren, within Titan Solutions I have a think tank made up of scientists with each and every single one of them being on par with Tony Stark, and you've seen what Dr. Samuel Sterns is capable of. The man is as smart as two Hank Pym's put together!" I boasted, not caring how (in)accurate my statements were, as long as they could draw Cross in.

"They'll have the Pym Particles cracked within the year, at the very latest!"

Cross chuckles and shakes his head, but I can see that this is the business man in him, wary of committing to any kind of deal before he's seen it from every possible angle and extracted every last bit of advantage he can get from it.

But he fails to hide the scientist within him from my keen eyes, and I can tell that he knows I can make good on my promise of delivering him fully functional Pym Particles.

And he wants them bad.

"So… what? What's your plan here? That you ask and I just giveyour scientists my research on the Pym Particles? Just like that?" he asks with a sarcastic tone and a demeaning chuckle at the ridiculousness of my proposal.

"Yes." I reply bluntly, taking his business persona off guard by not playing by the rules of the corporate game by showing my motives so openly.

"What do I get in return for that? For that matter, what do youget in return for that?" Cross blurts out, as the scientist within him starts to win from the flat-footed businessman.

"Well, what I get out of this is simple. I get the Pym Particle formula."

"What good is it to you? You don't have the facilities to mass-produce any tech with it yourself, and there's not a chance in hell that I'll enter into a deal that would allow you to sell as a competitor with my designs." Cross says with narrowed eyes, but I just smile in response.

"And you're absolutely correct, Darren, as usual of course. I don't have the means to market my own tech with it, and you're perfectly within your rights to not want me to sell the tech separately from yours, you're absolutely right. Fortunately, that won't be a problem!" I say with a happy grin and a clap of my hands (which due to their size and my strength, produces a sound much like a gunshot, making Cross jerk in his chair in surprise).

"It won't?" the CEO asks, taken off guard by the strange way this conversation is going.

"Nope! I don't plan on marketing the Pym Particles at all. Feel free to draw up a deal where you can sue me for everything that I have if I end up selling the stuff, I don't care."

"If you're not going to sell it, then why do you want it?" Cross asks, sounding genuinely confused at my motives.

"Mostly academic interests, partly the personal pride I would get from reverse engineering one of Hank Pym's greatest masterpieces. Honestly, I think that the Pym Particles can turn out very useful for Titan Solutions, both in our research and in optimizing our admittedly small facilities, but I can assure you Darren, I don't want it for economic purposes."

He looks at me disbelievingly, but I just stare back at him with an open smile on my face, betraying none of my actual motives. After a quick sip of his whiskey in order to centre himself, Cross nervously wets his lips, before he glances back at me again and I can tell that he's bothered by the fact that he doesn't know where I'm going with all this.

"Alright, say that I believe you… what's in it for me?"

"You mean other than the one thing you have been endlessly pursuing ever since you started working under Pym when you were barely in your twenties?" I ask coolly, making my eyes flare up as the temperature inside the conference room quickly starts to rise, curbing his greed by reminding him subtly just whoit is he's dealing with.

And what I'm capable of.

"Right. Besides that." Cross says with a nervous swallow.

"Think about it Darren. Really think about it. You said to me that we don't have to bow down to the older generation, so why are you planning on doing just that with the Pym Particles?" I ask, my eyes intent as I start twisting the man in front of me in order for him to suit my needs.

"W-what do you mean?" he asks in confusion, and I lean forwards, not letting up the pressure, forcing him to look me in my burning eyes.

"Tony Stark pulls Stark Industries from the weapons market and then in the same year reveals that he has developed new technology decades ahead of the rest of the world, and what does he do with it? He builds a suit. But instead of following in his footsteps, I broke free. I refused to follow the lead of a man like Stark and instead of parading out in armour made of gold so I can punch bad guys in the face as if I'm living out some childhood fantasy, I started up Titan Solutions. Right now, the face of energy and motorization is changing as we speak thanks to me, and medicine is about to go through a revolution of unrivalled proportions. Instead of finding increasingly ridiculous ways to strap missiles to myself, I am instead standing on the cusp of making disease a notion of the past. I've forged my own path, Darren. Why aren't you trying to do the same?" I lie passionately, trying my best to get through to the thoughtful looking Cross.

"I think I'm doing just fine in the "breaking free" department, thank you. In a few months, Pym Technologies will be replaced by Cross-"

"Bah, just slapping a new label on your mentor's company is nothing more than a first step, a cosmetic change. But Hank Pym still has his claws in you, even if you can't see it." I wave away his rebuttal, and I can see anger flare in his eyes.

"Hank Pym is nothing-"

"Tell me, what did he do with the Pym Particles?" I ask calmly, completely at odds with the incensed Cross as I lean back in my chair with a disinterested look on his face.

I can tell that my sudden question takes him off guard, and he takes a few moments to calm down again before he answers.

"Well, officially it was all purely theoretical of course. A new field of study, an extremely fascinating field, but with little practical application. They could not be created, much less used in any useful capacity."

"And unofficially?" I press as I raise an eyebrow.

"Well… there were these rumours. Tall tales, Hank would say. About an… about the Ant-Man."

"What he did, Darren, is exactly the same thing that Tony did. They revolutionized science as we know it, and then they built a suit with it. They ignored humanity's struggles, our ever-dwindling resources, our rising population numbers, our increasingly failing environment, and instead they made TOYS!" I roar the last word, slamming my palm flat down on the metallic table, leaving a glowing imprint in the glossy material, making Cross nearly jump out of his chair in surprise.

"And now you are seeking Pym's technology for yourself, thinking that you've freed yourself from your mentor's influence just because you're going to get a new logo for your company. All the while blind to the fact that you're still following him like a lost puppy! Tony Stark made a suit! Hank Pym made a suit! And what are you planning on making, Darren Cross?" I growl out as I lean forwards, seeing his eyes widen in shock as I reveal just a little bit more of my knowledge.

"How… That project is strictly confidential!" Cross blurts out, but he fails to summon any heat in his accusation as I keep staring at him, the thunderous expression on my face making him shrink back a little in his leather seat.

"What. Are. You. Going. To. Do?" I thunder clearly, and I have to hold back a snort as I can see his eyes flit around the room, looking at everything but me.

"Make a suit…" he mumbles, and now I know that he's in the right mental state for me to try and twist him to my needs, just like I had done with Killmonger.

Cross was a businessman (and a pretty good one too, actually) so by all rights me revealing knowledge about secret projects within his building should ring all kinds of alarm bells about corporate espionage, especially considering the kind of suspicion that was subtly directed towards Titan Solutions for suddenly coming up with Arc Reactors of its own so shortly after Tony had made the technology viable, in contrast to the big reactor that never did any better than just breaking even.

But his hunger for the Pym Particles, as well as the way that I had been directing our meeting, made that his business savvy had been thrown for a loop, leaving me to not deal with the CEO of Cross Technologies, but just another scientist, desperate for the next great scientific advancement of the century.

Standing up from my chair, I make my way towards him with slow measured steps, coming to a halt behind the man, one hand nonchalantly in my pocket, the other resting assuringly on his shoulder. Meanwhile I keep talking.

"Making a suit. Can't you see it, Darren? You're on this great quest to unravel what can just turn out to be the most versatile technology humanity has discovered so far, the same technology your mentor has so selfishly hidden from the world for decades. But instead of breaking free from your mentor, you're ending up on the same path as him!"

Leaning down a bit, I make sure that he looks me in the eyes before I continue feeding him with what he wants to hear, and what I want him to hear.

"Tell me something, Darren. How long have you asked Hank Pym, your mentor, the man you could even consider a father, to share his greatest creation with his protégé, the one person he should be able to trust? How long have you begged to be told about the Pym Particles?"

"Decades…" he whispers, and I can see anger and hate start to build within him.

Perfect.

"Decades…" I repeat in a thoughtful tone, before I continue.

"And in all that time, he has been hoarding his greatest creation for himself, as selfishly as a dragon with his treasure hoard. Refusing to share the Particles with humanity, refusing to try and make the world a better place. So, why don't you?"

His head whips around to stare at me in confusion, and I give him a sly grin as I spread my arms wide in a gesture meant to convey endless possibilities.

"Think about it Darren! What better way to completely break free from Pym, to show him that you no longer follow his ridiculous orders, that you now stand above him, than taking the one thing he has always kept to himself, that he has kept from you, and being the one to share it with the entire world! What good will making a suit do for you? Show you that you can mimic your mentor, that you can follow his lead? If you truly want to break free, Darren, then you need to do the opposite!"

I can see that the idea that sticking it to Pym resonates with him by the hunger in his eyes, so I go in for the final strike, leaning forwards a bit as I do.

"Think of the profits. Just take shipping, for example. If you were to shrink every container in the New York harbour, and enlarge the largest cargo ship we have, then you could fit all of New York's trade in a single ship. And combine it with technology based on my Blue Box, and that ship could take that cargo all over the world without having to stop for fuel even once! Do you have any idea just how many people are willing to pay us billions if we were to market something like that? And that's just shipping Darren! The same principle could be applied to every sector there is! We could turn Pym Particles into a common commodity, and all Hank Pym can do is tear out his hair in despair as he watches the treasure he has spent so long hoarding for himself is shared with the entire world, by you!"

As his brain goes through the calculations to quickly figure out just how much he could make by applying the Pym Particles that way, I can tell that I have him now.

Like I said, Cross is as much a business man as he is a scientist. And while the military sector in America is probably the richest sector in the entire world (roughly four times as much money is spent by the Government on it than the number two, China), it absolutely pales in comparison to the combined amount of spending in every other sector, such as transportation and communication, on a global scale. And Cross, being a business man, quickly reached the same conclusion.

Sure, selling to military contractors would result in a nice fat cheque, but what they could offer him was pocket change compared to what he could make if he started to market Pym Particles-based technology on a worldwide scale.

And now, for the cherry on top…

"Besides, you've already rebranded Pym Technologies to CrossTechnologies. What's to stop you from marketing CrossParticles as well? Pym kept his own Particles a secret for decades, he'll either look like a madman or the greatest asshole in modern history if he suddenly calls you out on it because he had been sitting on the same tech for decades and yet it never saw the light of day. Think about the headlines here, Darren: young CEO of Cross Technologies markets Cross Particles, set to be the greatest invention in the history of humanity. Obsolete old man Hank Pym left in the dust."

The answering grin is all the answer I need.

Seems like Titan Solutions is going to end up in a partnership with Cross Technologies.

"So how did the meeting go?" Jeri Hogarth asks me the moment I stepped into her office.

After Cross and I had hashed out some more details for a possible partnership between our companies, I had escorted him to the lobby of the building, after which I made it back to Hogarth's floor, as I had promised her I would show her the kind of tech me and the boys thought she could market once my meeting with Cross Technologies was finished.

"Pretty well honestly. Cross is heading back to San Francisco this evening, he has already phoned ahead, so my people should get a call from his people at any moment now." I reply as I sit down in the extra-large chair with a reinforced frame which supports my body like a smooth handmade velvet glove, a little gift from Hogarth as thanks for the Rejuvenation serum.

"And considering that I am 'your people' that means that for the foreseeable future I can expect random phone calls in the middle of the night, correct?"

"If it's any consolation, me and my team have been trying to develop a drug that cuts down on the amount of sleep people need?"

My peace offering is rejected with a disinterested snort as Jeri Hogarth keeps typing away on her computer, looking at me from the corner of her eyes (now completely without wrinkles, thanks to yours truly).

"Your idea of thanking me is making me sleep even less. No thanks, I'll pass. I'll take whatever else you got though, because Stark, or should I say Potts, isn't letting up."

Taking note of the seriousness in her voice, I sit a bit straighter, our banter forgotten.

"Are we going to be in trouble?"

"From a legal standpoint? No. Not yet, at least. Stark Industries' lawyers are circling us like sharks, testing the waters, but none of them are willing to make the first move. For all that Stark is content in blowing his money on the most idiotic of things like it's nothing, Potts won't tolerate her company bleeding money without getting anything in return, so they aren't ready to take us to court for a long expensive battle while they're still scrambling for something that they can use to nail us to the wall with."

"Then what's the issue?"

"We lost Honda."

"What?! How?! More importantly, why?! Hachigō has to know that if he backs out of our deal his competitors will gladly take his place!"

"Apparently, Miss Potts is very close to both him and his family and they have offered him alternatives."

I lean back in my chair in shock as I look at the stern faced lawyer in front of me, disbelief clear on my face.

"Stark is selling his Arc Reactor?"

Relief floods me as Jeri shakes her head in the negative. Right now, my Blue Box deals were my greatest source of revenue, due to the medical side of my company still having to face years of FDA-testing before it became profitable. Outdoing Stark economically had never been the point of Titan Solutions, but if Tony were to sell his Arc Reactors, it would mean a catastrophic hit to my company, and consequently the safety of my allies.

"No, not the tech. Potts has promised Hachigō that Stark himself will make him one engine per branch that Honda is involved in, to the best of his abilities. Depending on how Hachigō can swing the deal, it means that Tony Stark will be personally designing up to twelve different engines for the company. That, combined with his closeness to Miss Potts, has convinced him to back out."

I rub my face with a sigh as once again I reflect that making plans is all fun and games, but that none survive first contact with the enemy. To me, all of these people used to be actors, with their set lines to say and actions to perform.

But now, they are living, breathing, thinking people with a will of their own, and it's nearly impossible for me to predict how they'll react to me, since my presence here is obviously not part of my meta-knowledge.

However, even as I contemplate this, I can see Jeri give a smug little smile at her computer screen, and I can't help the curiosity that wells up inside me at the uncommon sight.

"What the hell got you so happy?"

Turning to look at me fully, Jeri leans forwards a bit, placing her arms on her desk and folding her slender hands together, the perfect picture of poised calm.

"Ford just doubled its offer on the condition that they also get the deal we had with Honda."

"But we made that deal with Honda specifically because they are involved in so many different branches of motor racing, way more than Ford is? Why do they want that deal as well if their company isn't geared for it?"

"They're thinking of expanding their interests. According to them, working with the level of tech that Titan Solutions can provide will give them the final push they need to grow into various other branches of the automotive industry. Their words, not mine."

"Meaning?"

Sure, it would be a matter of mere moments for my boosted brain to figure out their motivations myself, but after the meeting with Cross I had just had, it was nice to just kick back and let someone else do the thinking and explaining for once.

"They're shitting their pants, absolutely terrified of falling behind in the energy arms-race you have unleashed, and are desperate to make the most of the deals we are willing to make now while we're still negotiating as a small, young company, meaning from a position of relative weakness. Congratulations, Mr. McCole. You just turned losing one of your greatest backers into a multi-billion dollar deal." Jeri smiles, drawing a scoff from me.

"I hardly had anything to do with it, its Ford's paranoia that will make us the big bucks."

"That would be the Army, actually."

"They came through?"

"They did. Grudgingly of course, and they won't stop pestering me to try and make you reconsider your 'no weapons' policy, but considering that Tony Stark isn't working with them anymore, they hardly have any choice but to come to us now for their toys. The way we can revolutionize their vehicles, especially that "Tumbler" you showed me, almost has them begging on their knees, and I'm pretty sure that we made the EOD branch cry tears of joy when we sent them the specs of your new leather armour."

"If all that's true, then why are you so desperate for more gear to market?"

"Because making deals with big energy and car companies and the army is all well and good, but it's nothing more than background noise for the general populace. It's something they might skim over in the financial pages in their newspaper, but it's hardly something that'll stay on their thoughts throughout the day. Meanwhile, by the time it's 2014, roughly 6 millionpeople will be travelling in Tony Stark's brand new subway cars every day. We need something to counteract such a massive public presence or nobody will even bother to care when Stark Industries tries to fight us behind closed doors."

She made a lot of sense of course, though the high numbers took me off guard for a moment.

"Right, right, of course." I say, taking a see through rectangle of glass from my pocket, about the size of my hand, placing it flat on Jeri's desk.

As I do, a holographic screen fills the glass, several haptic buttons appearing off to the side, functioning as an interface. Ignoring Jeri's wide-eyed look, I flick my wrist, making the holographic screen suddenly shoot upwards, hovering roughly a foot above the glass. A gesture of both my hands (a pulling motion away from each other) makes the holographic 3D model expand suddenly until it's about as large as Hogarth's desk, showing a grid of files and maps.

"Right, me and the guys thought up a lot of stuff which we thought you might find useful, like flying cars-"

"Michael."

Jeri's steel clad voice cuts through my words with the razor edge of a Vibranium blade, and I find myself blinking as I look at the lawyer's intense gaze in surprise.

"Yeah?"

"What is this?"

"This? It's just a bit of tech we developed for day to day use. The glass sheet is easy to make and pretty cheap too. Getting the wiring small enough was a bit of a challenge, but Mason figured it out after a couple of hours. The holographic interface was just to make it easier to use. Why?"

"Why?! Michael do you even know what you have there?!"

Despite my advanced brain, I still find myself thrown for a loop, as I look from the wide-eyed Hogarth to the haptic interface and back to Hogarth again, raising my eyebrow in a question.

"It's just a hologram Jeri… it's not that special?" I hesitantly venture, making Hogarth's nostrils flare in indignation.

"Not that special?! Not that… How on Earth can you be so smart and yet still be dumb!?"

"Hey that's not very nice-"

"Holograms aren't just 'not that special' Michael! I know that you and your bunch of science friends are comfortable with Stark level tech, but you need to get this through that massive skull of yours: the rest of the world isn't!" Hogarth hisses at me, deflating a bit as she considers what she just said.

"Or well, most of the world anyways. Who knows what that Wakanda has, the rumours you hear about that place…"

Meanwhile I'm still coming to grips with the realization that Hogarth just dumped on me. I had been so focused on the major players on Earth, being in contact with advanced tech on a daily basis, that I had completely forgotten that the rest of the world was still at the same tech level as my old world had been.

Some of the stuff that I use on a daily basis was still considered fancy sci-fi to the rest of the world.

'When I was brainstorming with Phineas, I was using holographic interfaces, while he had a glove on that gave him pseudo-telekinesis, and both of us thought those things so mundane that neither of our advanced brains even registered them as special or marketable.'

"Just think about this, Michael, really think! The way we could revolutionize communications, advertisements, instructions, hell even video-games! This technology is applicable to literally everything we now use that has an interface!"

All I can do is nod at Jeri's rant (I've noticed she's become a lot more animated now that she's thirty years younger), all the while kicking myself for forgetting the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Stupid. Of course my hyper-advanced brain would come up with hyper-advanced solutions, while the simpler option was staring me right in the face.

"Michael. You are going to describe to me every single thingthat you guys use in that workshop of yours. And don't you dare leave anything out, you understand.

Giving her a determined nod, I start recalling every piece of equipment that's currently inside the warehouse, to the mountain of tools Sterns insists are necessary for his endless upkeep of his beloved Oliver, to the A/C unit that Burstein had installed to both deal with the temperature, as well to completely neutralize the smells coming from his leather-working production area.

Time to sell my inventions and make everyone super.

"Right, we got this autodoc in the labs for quick response, if someone messes up a chemical reaction or something, you know? But I think that with a carbonfiber frame and a body of inflatable vinyl…"

I made my way back towards the workshop feeling pretty damned pleased with myself.

While Darren's legal team had to first hash out all the boring details with my legal team, I wasn't really worried about that, considering that my legal team had a revitalized Jeri Hogarth at its head.

Me and Jeri had spent well over three hours walking through the tools that were used in my workshop, trying to come up with as many possible uses and ways to market them as we could, from altering our cheap 3D-printer to be able to mass-produce metals, ceramics, glass, and plastics, to the repurposing the gasmasks we occasionally used to also fit radio and a HUD, while being treated so it's as strong as Kevlar, while still being as thin as plastic.

As I was just walking across the sidewalk like your ordinary baseline humie, I could spot several of my tails again, amusement welling up inside me as I considered taking to the rooftops once more.

It's notoriously hard to shadow a guy if he makes jumps as high as several stories, and outruns cars.

Gonna need a lot of crossfit before you can keep up with that kind of athleticism.

There were the obligatory black vans of course, following me several dozen feet behind in a neat column, standing out like a sore thumb. That means that they are the kind of spies that people know exist, so probably CIA. The guy that has been walking at a constant 15 feet behind me is subtler, but his focus is obvious, indicating inexperience in dealing with non-baseline humans and their superior senses. NSA perhaps? One of the myriad of CIA special agent programs, like the Bourne and Mission Impossible movies told us about? Maybe FBI, but from what little I know about those guys, I figure that their preferred method is just bull rushing a target using a bunch of people in suits and shades, flashing their fancy badges.

Though that might just be my Hollywood enforced misconception speaking.

I didn't spot any tails that I could attribute to S.H.I.E.L.D., which meant that they either sent someone good enough that I couldn't spot them, or they didn't bother to put a tail on me at all. Considering the extensive monitoring equipment the agency had access to (in the words of Coulson "everything that has a camera") as well as the top-tier humans they employ, both are entirely possible.

No, what worries me is that I can't spot any tails that might be from the Hand.

Then again, they wouldn't really be proper ninja's if they could be spotted.

Given that they were a secret organization, deeply imbedded in both the upper elechons of New York society as well as its criminal underbelly (basically the same thing really) I had no idea how quickly they could mobilize, though I was hedging towards the idea that they'd probably need a couple of days to gather enough men for a proper strike.

Then again, they were a hidden society of ninja's, the quintessential assassins, meaning that they didn't really need to gather enough men; they just needed one, in the right place at the right time.

Reaching the workshop I decide to put the thoughts of ninja's out of my mind for now, throwing a cheeky wave over my shoulder at the column of black SUV's behind me as I made my way inside-

"GET A HOLD OF IT!"

"CAREFUL!"

"WHERE IS IT?! WHERE IS IT!? OH GOD I CAN'T SEE IT!"

"AAARGH! IT BIT ME! GET ME SOME ANITSCEPTIC, NOW!"

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE FIRE EXTUINGISHER?!"

-only to walk into absolute pandemonium.

There were a lot of people shouting at the top of their lungs, others were running around like headless chickens, the sound of (expensive) things falling and shattering kept ringing out, while I could spot at least three small fires scattered throughout the workshop.

Even as I stared completely frozen at the sight of chaos in front of me, I could hear crashes coming from the set of offices to my right, and I turned just in time to see Melvin Potter run straight through the old brickwork walls, showering the both of us in dust and mortar.

Appearing completely unbothered by the fact that he just destroyed a wall with just his body, the blacksmith simply lit up when he saw me standing there, straightening up and giving a happy wave, a big grin on his innocent face.

"Hi there Mr. McCole! Glad to see you're back!"

"Melvin… what the hell is going on?"

"Oh, Mr. Noah did an experiment, and it escaped!" was the answer, delivered as cheerfully as if he just said that the world had just outlawed taxes.

"… an experiment?"

"Yeah!" and with that he pointed behind him, and as I leaned a bit to the side to look around his broad frame I could see a black blur shoot low across the floor of the workshop, one of the workers that Toomes had put me in contact with chasing after it.

In his haste however, the man (now working security for my company) failed to see a colleague coming up from the other side, hands spread out in order to catch the blur as it approached him. Whatever the hell it was, it proved too fast for him though, and his hands closed on empty air, the blur flitting in between his legs. The man that had been in pursuit proved to be less nimble however and I could see their eyes widening in shock moments before they crashed into each other.

Now, while in any other situation this might've lead to some innocent slapstick and a bit of embarrassment, all of the people that I had put in the security department of my company had been upgraded with both the supersoldier serum, as well as the Luke Cage treatment.

Meaning that instead of tumbling down in an heap of limbs, the first guy slammed into the second one with an almighty crash much like a car collision would produce, lifting his colleague straight off the ground, and inadvertently running/falling forwards, shoulder checking the other man straight into the wall of my building.

And nearly clear through it as well.

"STEP ASIDE! MAKE WAY!"

The harried sound of Sterns' voice dashed all hopes I had of cooler heads prevailing over the chaos as I saw my friend hurrying forwards above the din of the battlefield of upturned desks and small fires on all six of his metal legs.

A few of them shot forwards, but once more the devious blur (and just what the hell had Burstein created?!) proved to fast for its pursuers, and somehowSterns metal arms got caught up in each other and the egghead fell to earth with an undignified yelp.

Growling deep in my chest at the chaos that had taken over myworkshop, I ran forwards, ducking and weaving around the scattered furniture and panicked people with more grace than the world's greatest dancers and athletes, the cat-like reflexes the Heartshaped Herb granted me really paying off now.

Vaulting over a desk covered in broken beakers and ruined papers with the tips of my fingers just barely brushing the wood, my feet hit the ground smoothly, immediately propelling me to the right and down, my hand shooting out quick as lightning, catching the blur by the… tail?

Completely nonplussed, I shifted my grip on whatever creature Burstein had created, placing my enormous hands on its torso, nearly circling it completely. Making sure that my grip was secure (the thing struggled like a cat on a mix of steroids and heroine, and proved almost a slippery as an eel) I straightened up, lifting up the being in front of my face.

And I was greeted by teeth.

Lots and lots of teeth, each one about as large as the pinkie finger on a normie would be.

"Ah, Michael (*huff*), good to see you captured Experiment 626 (*huff huff*)."

Slowly turning my head from the creature to the sweating form of Burstein, there's only one thing that I can think of to say.

"Burstein… what the hell?!"

'I really need to put up some safety rules here, or mad science will kill us all before the Chitauri even have a chance to get here.'

Wringing his hands, the scientist looks just a tad guilty at me, as around us people are giving out relieved sighs as they start helping each other up from the floor (or out of the walls, in one case), starting to put the place back in order again.

"Well… it's just that, you came up with the haptic interfaces, then Sam came up with the motion-responsive tech and then Phineas made that pseudo-telekinetic gauntlet of his and… well, I just wanted to make something as well. And well, remember when we watched Jurassic Park on movie night a couple of weeks back…" Burstein says haltingly, wincing a bit as next to us, one of the workers picks up a stack of papers, only to have them spontaneously combust in her hands due to the mix of spilled chemicals everywhere.

Thankfully, she had been one of the amputees that Toomes had sent me, and due to being healed with Extremis she was unharmed by the sudden fireball, though she sent Noah a veryannoyed look at her now singed shirt, the scientist giving a nervous smile in response.

Ignoring the by play for now, my mind snags on a little thing that the scientist had mentioned.

'Jurassic Park?'

Mechanically turning to look at the creature that I was holding an arms-length away from me (it was still squirming and snapping its multitude of teeth) I actually take the time to examine it properly.

The long tail.

The big snout.

The powerful hind legs.

The teeth.

"Noah?" I say, my voice completely flat and void of any emotion as I keep my eyes on the creature in my arms, which has finallyaccepted that escape is no longer an option, calming down a bit as it settles for glaring at me instead (which proves about as effective as gnashing on my unbreakable skin had been).

"Yes Michael?" the scientist replies in a despondent voice, his head hanging low as he dreads the question that he knows is coming.

"Why the hell am I holding a T-Rex?"

"Ah, well, like I said you guys were coming up with all this cool stuff, and we've pretty much perfected my enhancing treatment, especially with the help of Mr. Potter, so I wanted to start on a new project…" the scientist rambles.

My mind at this point is in an unnatural calm state as I look at the dog-sized dinosaur in my hands, the shock having proven too much and causing me to just run fully on auto-pilot right now.

"I see. You mean to tell me that in the span of two weeks, you brought back a species that had been extinct for 65 millionyears?"

Shuffling his feet a bit, I could see Burstein place his hands in his pockets only to take them out immediately again, wringing them nervously.

"Well, not exactly. I've been working on this ever since you and Sam upgraded my brain. It's just that the last two weeks I've been putting my research into practice."

"So that was what was inside your super-secret room that none of us were allowed to enter?"

"Yeah, some of the equipment there like the Incubation Chamber is really delicate, and I also figured that it would immediately spoil the surprise of what I was trying to do."

"Creating a dinosaur." I state flatly, as if to convince myself that, yes, this is in fact, real.

Meanwhile, the T-Rex in question has become bored from not setting me on fire by the power of its glare alone, and has begun squirming again, its yellow eyes flitting around the workshop as it seems to contemplate causing havoc and mayhem once more.

"Well… she's not a dinosaur in the strictest sense. As you know, getting DNA from dinosaur remains is impossible, as DNA doesn't last more than 5 million years, but traces of saurian DNA can still be found in the dormant parts of the genetic structure of their descendants. Considering that birds genetically speaking are dinosaurs I just sort of… back-tracked, using extensive knowledge of palaeontology and genetics to guide me, with the Saltwater Crocodile as a rough baseline."

"So… what you're telling me… is that I'm basically holding a chicken with teeth?"

"An ostrich actually. Also, uhm, I don't really know how to say this…"

"Noah. What the hell did you do?" I ask dangerously, before the T-Rex ostrich in my hands suddenly locks eyes with me, and somehow I can tell that it's confused about something, before it-

FWOOSH!

-before it hiccups, spouting a great gout of flame straight into my face. As I blink the sudden spots away, I'm greeted by the smuggest look I've ever seen a reptile make, only now noticing the subtle glow on its chest, reminding me somewhat of the Deathwing dragon from that World of Warcraft game that became incredibly popular a couple of years back.

The reason I hadn't even noticed its high body temperature was because I was burning so hot that outside heat barely even registered to me anymore.

"Noah. What. Did. You. DO?" I growl out, the baby T-Rex's tail lazily wagging back and forth as it amuses itself with chasing a speck of burned up paper floating around its head.

"… I uhh, may have decided that, since I was busy with coding its genetic structure, I uhh, you know, might as well go a little crazy. But you need to realize Michael, this was just an experiment, I never expected it to actually work!"

"Noah…"

"Noah!"

"You're not going to like this…"

"I'm already not liking this, now tell me whether or not you've done what I think you've done!"

"… well, I enhanced her with Extremis-"

"Shit!"

"-and the Brain Booster as well."

"SHIT!"

In the silence following my sudden outburst, I can hear the door to the workshop open and close again, boots walking a few steps as a voice rings out.

"Michael! I found where that Radcliffe guy of yours is…. Whoa…" I hear the familiar voice trail off, the sounds of her feet coming to a dead stop, and looking over my shoulder, I can see Jessica looking around the chaos with a confused look on her face.

"Hey guys, what the hell happened here? Looks like a bomb went off or something…"

She trails off in stunned silence however, as her eyes land on the T-Rex dangling in my hands, happily chewing away on my thumb, before the little monster notices Jessica as well, letting go of my digit in order to tilt her head at the woman much like a curious puppy would.

You know, if that puppy had scales that is.

And could breathe fire

"Is that… a dino?"

"Yes…" I reply with a sigh, looking back at the baby in my arms-

FWOOSH!

-only to get blasted in the face again.

Intentionally, this time, I'm sure of it.

Just one look at that smug little face confirms my suspicions.

"Holy shit, did the dino just breathe fire at you?!"

"Yes…" I answer with gritted teeth, but the damned lizard seems completely unimpressed by my thunderous expression, just grinning at me with her legion of sharp pointy teeth.

For a moment, there's only the sound of people shuffling about, trying to clean the place up as best they can, before Jessica's dry voice cuts across the din.

"Your life is so weird."

"Tell me about it." I say in a suffering tone of exhaustion.

Meanwhile, the little T-Rex keeps on happily wagging her tail.

AN: I know that this isn't the chapter everyone has been waiting for, with the epic Hand confrontation. I had originally planned to start writing short pieces of that chapter, but my muse kidnapped me, and now here I am, 10k words in and still not at the climactic chapter. I'll be going back to studying though, so my earlier promise of that chapter coming out next week still stands, in the meantime I hope this tidied you over a bit.

Fun Fact: Larry Hama's vision for G.I. Joe was originally intended as a new direction for Nick Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D.