New Missiles
"Hey, Natasha, time's up. The convoy is waiting, just waiting on you—don't tell me you're still in bed."
Colonel Rhodes, now dressed in a casual military short-sleeved uniform, removed his cap and tucked it under his arm as he knocked on the hardwood door of the jet's rear bedroom.
"You must be joking! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? Half an hour, Rhodey! Half an hour!"
Perhaps because she was speaking in front of a longtime friend, Miss Stark showed none of the ladylike image she usually maintained. Instead, she expressed great dissatisfaction with the shockingly slow efficiency of the U.S. military in such an important matter.
Colonel Rhodes opened his mouth helplessly, scratching his head, unsure of what to say to soothe this woman, who resembled an enraged lioness.
"Do you even know what I did in that half hour? I bought a bankrupt luxury hotel in San Francisco using money I made during half an hour of the stock market opening!"
"Whoa… that's not a bargain you come across every day, Natasha."
Hearing her words, Colonel Rhodes forced a smile, rubbing his nose awkwardly. He really didn't know what to say, but there wasn't much he could do either, considering the real dangers in Afghanistan.
For safety reasons, a unit of 200 soldiers from Bagram Air Base had worked through the night to clear the area surrounding the weapons test site, completing the task only by the next morning.
"You've told me more than once that complaining doesn't help and it's better to do something useful. So now I'll say the same to you—there's no need to stress, I'm with you."
"Hmph… I'm fine, Rhodey, just a little… never mind, lead the way."
Miss Stark exhaled a long breath, not dwelling on Rhodey's advice. She simply slung a red-and-black shoulder bag over her shoulder, brushed past him, and headed toward the jet's exit.
Soon, the two left the luxury jet on the runway, boarding a military Humvee that departed Bagram Air Base. The Humvee joined a convoy of several other military vehicles, heading further into the mountainous desert region.
The so-called "weapons test site command post" wasn't the building Miss Stark had envisioned. Instead, it was a temporary camp set up on a flat area in the mountains using military tents and other materials.
There, nearly a hundred elite U.S. soldiers were stationed, responsible for securing the surrounding area. Additionally, dozens of U.S. military officers, having heard about the weapons test and the presence of the Stark Industries CEO, had abandoned their duties to form a group of spectators.
By the time Miss Stark and Colonel Rhodes arrived with the convoy, the clock had already passed noon. Fortunately, the camp had prepared a hearty lunch for everyone.
Even though Miss Stark no longer needed to consume food for energy due to the Extremis Virus, she still joined Colonel Rhodes and General Marcus for a meal to avoid unnecessary complications.
The lunch consisted of Burger King meals. Heaven knows how much money the U.S. military spends to ensure that its soldiers can enjoy familiar fast food no matter where they are in the world.
But compared to regular food, Miss Stark preferred the simplicity and deliciousness of burgers and sodas, especially now that she didn't need to worry about calorie intake.
"Our soldiers cleared nearly a hundred square kilometers of uninhabited land overnight. Should be enough for the weapons test, right?"
"It'll do—"
Time passed quickly. After lunch, everyone gathered on a hilltop overlooking the weapons test site. Three Jericho Missiles lay quietly on their launchers, their metallic exteriors gleaming under the sunlight.
Miss Stark stood directly beneath the missile launchers, using a tablet in her hands to connect the launcher's control panel to Stark Industries' satellite system. The tablet displayed the control interface.
"Damn these guys. They wouldn't let me bring an engineer to Afghanistan, so now I have to adjust the weapons myself while they formed a little officer viewing group. Seriously… are they a bunch of schoolkids just here to watch?"
Standing under the blazing sun, Miss Stark bit her lip in frustration, silently vowing to give them a good scare with the Jericho Missile's power during the test to vent her anger.
With the weapons systems tested and ready, the Jericho Missile demonstration was about to begin. As usual, as the boss, Miss Stark was expected to say a few words. Well… if she had to, she would.
"Well… frankly, I've never believed that war can bring peace, but the existence of weapons at least ensures that those foolish enough to provoke us will keep their mouths shut."
Beyond the vast, gray desert plain lay distant, undulating mountains. Standing before the crowd, Miss Stark didn't falter as the center of attention. After a brief pause, she began to speak.
"Sure, many people have said—and many more agree—that the best weapon is one that doesn't need to be used. But I hold reservations about that."
Coming from the mouth of a weapons dealer, such words were undoubtedly ironic. Many of the military officers in attendance chuckled, some genuinely amused, while others simply played along with her dry humor.
Miss Stark noticed the various expressions on their faces but chose not to dwell on it. Instead, she waved a hand dismissively.
"Alright, gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to the new product from the Code: Liberty series—the Jericho Missile."
As her words fell, JARVIS remotely unlocked the launch mechanism via satellite. The three missiles stood ready, primed for launch.
The multispectral infrared guidance system charted the missile's trajectory and coverage area. Within seconds, one of the Jericho Missiles ignited, trailing a long tail of fire as it shot into the sky, speeding toward the distant mountains.
During its flight, the missile's onboard microchip continuously adjusted its course. In less than ten seconds, it neared the mountain range, and just as it approached the ridgeline, the missile's casing split apart.
The Jericho Missile wasn't a conventional weapon; it was a complete war machine. Inside, it housed twenty submunitions, each filled with specially mixed high-explosive charges. Each bomb had a blast radius of over a hundred meters, and when all twenty detonated together, the resulting shockwave was comparable to a nuclear explosion.
The violent explosion unfolded before everyone's eyes, kicking up clouds of dust and shockwaves across the barren landscape. Even from kilometers away, the observers on the hilltop were knocked off balance by the gusts.
As the dust slowly settled, the once continuous mountain range now appeared jagged and uneven, as if chewed apart. Everyone stood in awe of the missile's destructive power, while General Marcus, representing the Department of Defense and the U.S. Army, watched with eyes aglow.
The Jericho Missile had the explosive force of a nuclear bomb but without the lingering radiation, making it the ultimate clean weapon.
Sure, nuclear bombs might be cheaper, but their usage restrictions and the complications of post-attack cleanup made them far less practical.
"Gentlemen, what I've just shown you is the future."
"Five hundred million dollars per set, buy two get one free, and discounts for purchases over a hundred sets. Volume orders get more discounts, so act fast."
After the missile test, Miss Stark removed her sunglasses, her face once again wearing the sly smile of a merchant as she eagerly pushed her new weapon—knowing full well that the U.S. military would be very tempted.
The Jericho Missile, with its nuclear-level deterrent, was small, powerful, and free from the restrictions of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. Bulk orders could turn it into a key strategic weapon.
General Marcus slowly approached Miss Stark, his body trembling. Whether it was from fear of the missile's power or sheer excitement was unclear, but he raised his hand, flashing a "Yeah" sign.
"General, you don't need to act cute while we're doing business."
Miss Stark raised an eyebrow, finding the sight of a greasy middle-aged man flashing a peace sign somewhat hard to stomach.
"One hundred sets, fixed price—we'll take them all."
The now-recovered brigadier general stood before Miss Stark, slowly picking up his military cap and placing it back on his head.
Miss Stark's expression turned into one of shock. Were these people really this rich? Then she remembered how they'd profited from wars in the Middle East, and it all made sense.
The U.S. military stationed in war zones was filthy rich—hundreds of billions of dollars in cash just sat in their warehouses. In the winter, they didn't even need coal for heating; when it got cold, they'd just burn a couple of shovelfuls of cash.
The chaos in the Middle East fueled economies reliant on arms deals, gold, and endless oil reserves. Each of these was among the most profitable ventures in the world, so it wasn't hard to believe that the U.S. military could amass such wealth.
"Alright, since you're buying a hundred sets, and we're such good partners, I'll personally give you a bit of a discount as a contribution to the global strategic weapons industry. Pay upfront, though."
"How about 8% off? Don't say I didn't give you a good deal. Even with taxes, most of the money will end up back in your hands as weapons anyway."
"But I do have one condition. Once the deal's done and you get the weapons, if you don't want them anymore, we'll buy them back—but at a discount, with a hefty fee for military sales taxes."
After pausing for a moment, Miss Stark added a special condition.
"Ah, that's no problem, a trivial matter. I'll notify the Department of Defense right away to wire the money. Cash or bank transfer?"
General Marcus seemed unfazed by Miss Stark's added condition. His mind was entirely occupied by the two remaining Jericho Missiles on the launchers, their sleek forms as captivating as the most beautiful women in the world.
"Bank transfer. Once the money's in, I'll have all the factories begin production immediately. We can deliver half within a month."
Miss Stark smiled, nodding, but just then, her tablet vibrated. She glanced at the caller ID, and the familiar face of Obadiah Stane filled the screen.
"Excuse me, I have to take this call—remember, money talks, and production starts."
"Take your time; I'll notify the Department of Defense right away."
Miss Stark nodded lightly, stepping away from the crowd to a more secluded spot before answering the call on her tablet.
"Hey, kid, how's it going?"
"Not bad, old man. Those Army suckers took the bait."
Since her parents passed away, this old man—widowed and with only one son—had cared for her like a daughter. Miss Stark had complex feelings about Obadiah Stane.
Before, he'd always kept her out of the company, claiming she was too young to take over. But he'd never treated her poorly, always ensuring she had plenty of spending money each month.
And after receiving fragments of memories from another version of herself, she understood that Obadiah had indeed done many things behind her back. However, she didn't resent him for it.
As the saying goes, if the person you trust and love the most betrays you but does so with your best interests in mind—even if they use some underhanded tactics—it doesn't mean they've truly betrayed you.
Miss Stark could sense that Obadiah Stane had a special kind of affection for her—a silent form of kinship.
Though Obadiah was never one to express his emotions openly, she could see it clearly. His care for her was no less than what he showed for his biological son, Ezekiel Stane.
"Tell the factories to be ready to start production as soon as the money arrives. No need to let them have time to change their minds."
"Well done, kid. When you get back, we'll throw you a celebration. I bet the board's jaws will hit the floor."
Lying in bed, the old man chuckled, stroking his graying beard.
"Finish up quickly and get back here. I never wanted you to go over there in the first place; the Middle East is way too dangerous."
"Alright, alright—I know… you're worse than my dad with the nagging."
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