Allen's Top Ten Inventions

The Technology Research and Development Department, one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s core divisions, has always been a key investment target for high-ranking military officials.

According to custom, a quarterly technical achievement report is presented, allowing the military to select promising samples for investment.

Several researchers had already showcased their work.

Dr. Pym was presenting before Allen.

That's right, the domestic abuser who shrunk his wife into the quantum realm and then got cuckolded.

The military brass was quite pleased watching a Pym Particle shrink a target down to the size of a grain of rice.

However, Pym Particles were still in the experimental stage and had not yet reached a level of technological maturity for practical application.

Howard didn't need to participate; his focus was on energy, and his equipment was as large as a tank. He was just there to watch the spectacle.

"This thing is great. If it could be used for..."

Allen glanced between his legs, a brilliant smile on his face.

"It seems Pym Particles can only shrink, not enlarge, and can't restore things to their original size," Howard explained.

"Shit, useless junk."

Allen didn't hide his disdain. "Anyone can shrink something. It's not that special."

After Dr. Pym left the stage, Allen swaggered to the center, Wilson pushing a cart beside him.

The fact that this new young expert had improved the Super Soldier Serum was no longer a secret, and many high-ranking military officials were eager to see what novelties he would present.

Allen's gaze swept over the assembled elderly brass, his eyes locking onto several colonels and major generals whose heads had gone completely bald.

"As everyone knows, hair loss is a man's nemesis. After my dedicated research, I've developed a special shampoo that can completely solve this century-old problem."

With a nod to Wilson, Allen signaled him, and Wilson awkwardly retrieved a plastic bottle.

"Ta-da! Strong Shed Shampoo."

Allen took the shampoo and introduced it. "Just one use, and I guarantee not a single hair will remain. It'll be so shiny under the sun it'll gleam like a lightbulb. The only thing that can compete with this product is probably a lighter."

Allen pointed at the military officials. "Are you tempted or not?"

Everyone's mouth twitched. No one responded to such a insane question.

They were all struggling with hair loss, and he was offering a permanent solution.

No more worries, no more hair.

Howard, watching from the side, had a look of keen interest in his eyes, already seeing the business potential.

Instead of using Strong Shed Shampoo on hair, what if it's used for underarm and pubic hair? That could make a fortune.

"You're still not tempted by this?"

Allen tossed the shampoo aside and said seriously, "Arsen, bring out the props! The second product: Fireproof Styling Water."

At this, Wilson presented a mannequin head and took out another bottle of liquid.

Allen applied the liquid to the mannequin head and styled a pompadour with his hands.

Then, he ignited it with a flame.

Instantly, flames engulfed the mannequin head, burning fiercely like a torch.

The rubber mannequin soon turned black and softened, but the exaggerated pompadour wig remained perfectly intact.

"It's completely safe within a thousand degrees Celsius. Our slogan is: 'Even if I'm reduced to ashes, my hairstyle will live on.'"

What kind of lunatic is this?

At a thousand degrees Celsius, a person would be reduced to ashes, but the hair would be fine. Did he want to scare the crematorium staff to death?

Of course, if used correctly, this product had considerable potential.

It could be used in the fire safety industry or as a fire-retardant coating for equipment, but Allen clearly wasn't using it for its intended purpose.

"Very impressive."

A major general's expression softened slightly. At least he saw something practical.

"Good taste. I'll treat you to some candy."

Allen stepped forward and offered a lollipop.

The major general frowned as he took it. Seeing Allen's expectant gaze, he unwrapped the candy and put it in his mouth.

The next second, his eyes widened as he heard music echoing in his mouth.

"Surprised?"

Allen grinned, revealing two large front teeth. "This is an explosive musical lollipop I made for agents."

"Explosive?"

The major general, startled, was about to throw the lollipop away. If it exploded in his mouth, his entire head would be gone.

"Don't take it out," Allen stopped him. "As long as you keep licking it with your tongue, it won't explode. Just lick it until it's gone, and you'll be fine."

Allen excitedly returned to his cart, pulled out a briefcase, and introduced it. "Being an agent is tough work. For humanitarian reasons, I've drawn inspiration from two colleagues I was researched with at the Qingshan Rehabilitation Center, Vinci and Leon, to develop an agent's briefcase."

"Don't be fooled by its plain appearance; this has plenty of functions."

Allen opened the briefcase and took out four metal tubes, meticulously comparing their thickness.

Everyone began to speculate, wondering if they were some kind of firearm.

In less than a minute, Allen tightened the four metal tubes, then flipped them over and sat on them.

"Super Agent Chair."

Allen pressed a button, and his body began to vibrate. He introduced it, "Agents often experience leg fatigue during long surveillance missions. This product allows you to complete your tasks while seated, and it features seat vibration massage and cushion heating. In emergencies, it can even eject you to help you vault over walls."

"Old Howard, cool, right?"

Allen looked at Howard for his opinion. Howard replied awkwardly, "Your invention is quite impressive."

"Next up is the Whimsical Gun. The first shot fires forward, and the second shot fires backward to prevent the weapon from falling into enemy hands."

After speaking, Allen tossed it back into the box, not thinking it was particularly remarkable.

After some searching, he took out a syringe.

"I proudly present the Regret Needle," Allen said solemnly. "With one injection, it can make a person feel remorse for all the mistakes they've made in their life."

Allen's eyes drifted towards Wilson, his gaze gradually becoming ambiguous.

"You're insane."

Wilson had already guessed Allen's intention; it was obvious he wanted to inject him.

While Allen's research capabilities were beyond doubt, the thought of using it on himself, confessing all his embarrassing secrets, would be instant social death.

Wilson quickly hid behind Howard, absolutely refusing to be Allen's guinea pig.

"Come on, just one shot. I guarantee you'll feel refreshed and reborn."

Allen chased after him, trying to administer the injection. Howard, caught in the middle, nervously urged him, "Careful, don't hit me. Try it on a prisoner instead."

"Don't be afraid, the dosage isn't large, it'll only last for a minute at most."

"You still can't use it on a colleague."

"It's fine, being honest is the most important thing."

"That's just humiliating people."

"Huh... where's my Regret Needle?"

After a stalemate, Allen suddenly realized the syringe in his hand was gone.

Immediately, everyone present frantically checked themselves to see if they had been targeted.

With a thud.

A colonel in the military suddenly knelt down, tears welling up in his eyes. A syringe was visibly stuck in his thigh.

The drug's effect had kicked in.

Everyone quietly waited for the man's social death process.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry to America, I'm sorry to the citizens. I sold information about the cargo ships to Chrysanthemum Country. I've been doing it since last year. I'm sorry, I was temporarily blinded by greed."

Hiss... a traitor.

This injection brought an unexpected bonus.

At this point in time, America wasn't directly involved in the war, making substantial profits by transporting vast quantities of supplies to various battlefields worldwide every day.

The shipping routes and transit times were crucial for achieving these profits.

It was easy to imagine that this man's life was over, as he had directly impacted the interests of capitalists.

"General, I was wrong," the colonel said, hugging a Major General's leg and weeping. "Give me another chance to start over. I'm willing to atone for my sins."

"Sinner, you'll face a military tribunal. Wait," the Major General mumbled indistinctly, a lollipop in his mouth.

"General, I shouldn't have taken advantage of your drunkenness to engage in intimate exchanges with your wife. I deeply regret it now."

This declaration caused an uproar.

It wasn't just one person facing social death; the Major General's head suddenly shone with the green light of forgiveness.

"Vice Admiral Winx, my son and I are truly in love. Although our relationship is not accepted by society, I hope to receive your blessing."

"Bless your mother's..."

The military high command descended into chaos, with a group of people beating someone.

More people didn't want the drama to involve them. Two highly respected generals in the military now had faces as dark as ink.

One wife's infidelity and one son's coming out were enough to stir up a major discussion within the military.

Of course, the media capitalists, who never shied away from sensationalism, would surely publish this incident in the newspapers, turning it into a nationwide feast for everyone to enjoy.