"Very good, Mr. Wilson. You really could fly. Though you were still a little worse than me, congratulations—you're hired." Stark shook Sam's hand, still clad in its armored gauntlet. His faceplate rose, and Sam smiled at him.
"However, making you a close-combat armor tester would be a bit of a waste of your talent." Stark abruptly changed the subject, walked over to the lab bench, and tapped the screen beside it twice.
The heavy armor on Sam's body was removed, and he stepped down from the docking platform. But soon, he heard another humming scrape of moving parts, followed by a whistle through the air.
Sam felt something strike his back. It had a sticky, clammy texture as it spread over him. When he turned around, he saw a pair of steel wings had appeared behind him, connected to his back by a somewhat gooey, gelatinous substance.
"A biotech flight wing jointly developed by Stark Industries and the Osborn Group. The latest neural-control model. Buddy, you got lucky." Stark snapped his fingers.
"The Osborn Group realized they simply couldn't compete with Stark Industries in aerial transport, so they took a step back and began developing personal flight equipment. This is their latest achievement, and that project team happens to need a tester with aerial flight experience."
Sam gave his shoulders a shake, and a strange sensation traveled to his brain. It was as though the wings were limbs he had always possessed. He lightly flexed his shoulder muscles, and one wing twitched nimbly, making him cry out in surprise.
Rhodey stroked his chin and said, "Why not get Air Force pilots to test it? Their balance and reaction speed should be better, right?"
Stark nodded. "But their muscle memory is stronger too. Fundamentally, Air Force pilots are still pilots. Their