New Iron Soldiers and a massive order

Early morning.

Warm sunlight streamed through the clear floor-to-ceiling windows.

The Tyndall effect painted a beautiful picture across the room.

The room's owner held two pieces of metal in his hands.

Golden flames radiated intense heat, warping the air.

"They really can take the heat."

John closed his hand around the golden flames, extinguishing them in his palm.

The two metal pieces removed from the Destroyer had only warped slightly.

Melting this magical metal was no simple task, especially when it had already been shaped once.

That made it considerably harder.

John basked in the morning sunlight, his eyes catching its glow with a hint of golden sanctity.

"This place really is inconvenient."

He wondered whether he should move somewhere else.

His Dad and mother showed no signs of coming back, and his younger sister was currently away from home.

Although this mansion was the sort most people could only dream of, he found it less comfortable than his little house in London.

There were too many things he couldn't do in such a densely populated area.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang.

John put away the metal pieces and headed downstairs.

Just as he reached the door, he heard it open.

Natasha had picked the lock and let herself in. Today, she wore a low-cut black dress.

Her wavy red hair fell over her shoulders, and her rimless glasses gave her an air of intellectual charm.

John sighed. "You can't pick the lock and let yourself in every time, Miss Romanoff."

"Really?" Natasha rolled her eyes at him. "If my boss could remember that today is the final delivery date for his military order, perhaps I'd wait for him to take his time getting to the door."

"Today?" John slapped his forehead in realization. "I knew there was something I was supposed to do today."

Natasha merely sneered.

She entered with a tablet in her arms, making herself at home as she spoke. "You haven't visited the company once since you made that agreement with General Ross."

"I need to stay safe." John walked to a cabinet, took out some coffee beans, and poured them into a grinder. "Isn't that what you told me?"

"The Ten Rings are out there waiting to pounce." John said it with a smile.

That only made Natasha angrier. She was just about to speak.

Then the grinder started up with a noisy whir.

She had no choice but to shut her mouth and wait for the beans to finish grinding.

"You..."

Bzzzz-

The machine started again. Natasha marched over to John in her heels and switched it off.

"You posted a bounty." Natasha took a deep breath. "The bounty you placed at the Continental Hotel has kept the leader of the Ten Rings silent for half a month."

"Even S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know whether he's dead or alive."

Natasha stared at John's lips. "Where did you get the money?"

"Were you responsible for what happened at Hell Paradise?"

"And the underground vault-that was where the major gangs in Hell's Kitchen kept their money."

She fired off three questions in succession.

John noticed her little gesture instead. "Why won't you look me in the eyes?"

He leaned closer, bringing his nose within an inch of hers.

A roguish smile curled his lips. "It's only polite, isn't it?"

Natasha avoided his beautiful reddish-brown eyes and turned her head aside. "Answering questions is polite, too."

John couldn't help laughing.

He removed the ground coffee from the grinder and put it into the coffee maker.

The rich aroma of coffee slowly drifted out.

"You seem to know a few things." John took out two cups and said casually, "S.H.I.E.L.D. really does have its fingers in everything."

"It wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D."

Natasha turned back toward him. "It was me."

"Oh?" John sounded surprised. "You certainly aren't modest."

"I investigated for five years," Natasha said. "After that attack."

"I really shouldn't underestimate you people."

Once the two cups of coffee were ready, John handed one to Natasha.

He understood that Natasha was wary of him.

That didn't surprise John. As an agent, she would have died long ago if she trusted people easily.

He dropped the subject and headed into the living room.

"Miss Romanoff, give me some good news."

The television switched on automatically. John sat on the sofa, watching Morning News while listening to Natasha report on the company.

"Hammer Industries' weapons research and development department has finished assembling the new Iron Soldier. It will be sent to the Air Force Base for testing today."

Natasha opened her tablet and tapped the screen.

"News has leaked about the new energy development department established by Taran Industries. The major media outlets have reported on it, and none are optimistic about the move."

"It's affected Taran Industries' share price."

That was to be expected.

Even a company as powerful as Stark Industries had faced widespread ridicule after shutting down its weapons division and moving into energy. Its share price had kept falling at the time.

"They think Taran Industries wants to imitate Stark Industries." Holding his coffee, John said noncommittally, "But Taran Industries doesn't have Iron Man."

Iron Man?

Does it really not have him?

John smiled inwardly.

Those people rushing to sell their shares would probably regret it bitterly.

Seeing his expression, Natasha didn't know what else to say.

After all, even S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't see how Taran Industries could survive dabbling in energy against a behemoth like Stark.

Their peaceful morning soon passed.

When John went outside with Natasha, a new car was already waiting for them.

Ferdinand sat inside, still chewing the sandwich his mother had made him.

When he saw his boss, he hurried out to open the door for John.

"Natalie, this side..."

"I know." Natasha sat in the front passenger seat and raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't like sitting with other people."

Ferdinand felt that his fellow employee, the female assistant, seemed to be at odds with his boss. But as a mere driver, he didn't dare ask.

The car Roman had driven away was still being repaired. It would probably take another half month to fix.

John mentally tallied the cars in Dad's garage. In a little while, Dad could buy some new ones.

Ferdinand drove as aggressively as ever, though he had toned it down considerably.

They headed to Hammer Industries.

As Hammer Industries' current major shareholder and chairman, John went straight to the workshop.

A brand-new Iron Soldier stood on a platform. Two meters tall and equipped with Hammer weaponry, it was a ground-combat model.

Yet there was only one person working in the entire workshop.

The man inserted a USB drive into a computer, his tattooed fingers tapping at the keyboard.

Beside him, a white parrot ate nuts, occasionally taking a sip from a beer can.

John walked in, saw the scene, and casually took a peanut from the food dish and fed it to the parrot.

"Is the program ready?"

With his hair cropped short and his beard shaved off, Ivan looked ten years younger. He picked up his beer, took a sip, and said confidently, "All it needs now is to be switched on."

John smiled. Natasha approached and frowned at Ivan. He looked very familiar.

Ivan remembered this woman. The last time he had stirred up trouble at Hammer Industries, Natasha had taken down every security guard there by herself.

"Women are like poisoned liquor," he muttered in Russian.

John glanced at Natasha. "We're going to the Air Force Base this afternoon."

"You go. I don't want to be there."

Ivan grinned. He was currently a "dead man," and he didn't want to get himself killed through recklessness before successfully taking revenge on Stark Industries.

Understanding his concerns, John nodded. "Then stay here and drink your vodka. But a word of advice: don't let the parrot drink too much."

"My bird's different." Ivan offered the beer to the parrot and laughed. "It can hold its liquor."

Natasha answered a call, then said, "General Ross is already preparing to leave for the Air Force Base."

"Have the staff transport the Iron Soldier there," John said.

Ivan unplugged the USB drive and slipped it into his pocket. Noticing John's curious look, he said, "It's a system program I optimized myself."

That afternoon.

The Air Force Base.

It stood in a vast expanse of desert.

General Ross examined the brand-new Iron Soldier. It was somewhat different from the ones he had seen at the Expo.

John wore a suit and, for once, a tie.

"This is the all-new Iron Soldier. It's faster, stronger, and more accurate than the previous generation."

He stood in front of the Iron Soldier, facing the group led by General Ross.

An old friend was among them.

Rhodey.

God knew that when Rhodey saw the Iron Soldier before him, he had nearly gone to put on his Armor and blow it up.

His expression changed, and his gaze grew wary as he looked at John.

Hammer Industries wasn't capable of producing Iron Soldiers again.

Neither was Taran Industries.

That left only one person.

Ivan.

John extended a hand, and the Iron Soldier began to move.

First came the speed test.

On the battlefield, mobility and defensive strength were both crucial.

Running at full speed, the Iron Soldier could even outrun an Off-Road Jeep with its accelerator floored.

Its defensive capabilities were even more impressive. A barrage of bullets left it unscathed, and even artillery fire only scorched its outer coating.

That didn't interfere with its normal operation.

The Iron Soldier had two missile launchers on its shoulders.

The rectangular pods opened, and missiles poured out.

In less than half a minute, they could flatten a small hill.

The two shoulder-mounted missile pods were replaceable. Once empty, they popped off so fresh pods could be fitted.

Powerful weapons mounted on its arms quickly riddled a car with holes.

Even a tank was lifted and nearly overturned when the Iron Soldier rammed it at full speed.

The test covered multiple areas, including mobility, defense, and destructive power.

The results brought an involuntary look of satisfaction to General Ross's normally stern, rigid face.

Compared with the previous version, cobbled together from existing materials within a week, this model had been built entirely under Ivan's personal supervision. Naturally, it was much more powerful.

After the test, even Rhodey had to admit that with these machines, the United States would be as secure as a fortress.

But as a participant in the test, Rhodey still raised a concern. "What about security? Last time, the Iron Soldiers were controlled remotely and caused devastating losses in New York."

"You can rest assured on that point. Every Iron Soldier has an independent network connected to a dedicated server. Unless someone can physically seize the internal server, there's no way to take control."

As long as I don't connect to the internet, no one can hack me.

Simple, blunt methods were often the most effective.

After watching the demonstration, General Ross extended his hand to John. "You've kept your order, Mr. Wick."

"It's merely an equal exchange," John said with a smile. "Money for technology."

"We want fifty of each, including the naval and air force models."

This order was worth more than ten billion, enough to bring Hammer Industries back from the dead in one stroke.

If Justin Hammer found out, he would probably be sick with regret.

John shook his hand, smiling. "My assistant will arrange everything for us."

He looked at Natasha and winked.

The helper S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him had top-notch professional skills.

News of Hammer Industries' revival had yet to be publicized.

But once word got out, Hammer Industries would return to its position as the leader in weapons manufacturing.