Justin Hammer raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on the USB drive, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
Could this be a pyramid scheme?
No, pyramid schemes don't give out USB drives; they give out chicken soup and face masks.
Could that be an FBI sting operation?
That's not right either; the FBI wouldn't stole a scene from a spy movie in a parking lot.
But... he said I was an underrated genius.
Regardless of how you look at it, this statement makes a lot of sense.
And he even left the USB drive in my car.
If I don't take it, wouldn't I look like a coward?
Justin Hammer can be anything, but he absolutely cannot be a coward.
"What do you want?"
Upon hearing this, the passerby smiled slightly.
"It's very simple. We need a legitimate military industrial enterprise to cooperate in producing some equipment. The specific details will be discussed with you later."
"Is it really that simple?"
"There's one more thing." The male passerby paused for a moment.
"Our sponsor has one extra little wish. He hopes to see Stark Industries... suffer a little setback."
What?! Stark Industries has suffered a setback?!
Justin Hammer smiled.
This is a perfect match for his major! That's exactly what he does!
He practically grabbed the USB drive and stuffed it into his pocket.
Then he turned to his bodyguard and said.
"Cancel the afternoon meeting. Let's go back to the office."
The bodyguard, completely bewildered, had no idea what was going on. "Boss, but what about the general...?"
"Let the general wait."
Justin Hammer waved his hand, unable to suppress the smile playing on his lips.
Justin Hammer is about to take off. Who cares about his paltry orders?
After saying that, he opened the car door and got into the back seat, but almost caught his trench coat when he closed the door.
Soon, the car started and disappeared from sight.
The bodyguard glanced at the taillights of his boss's departing car and sighed silently to himself.
I'm so sad, what should I do?
The boss seems to have had another episode of his illness, and it's not just a minor one.
The man had disappeared into the corner of the parking lot.
They come and go without a trace, as if they had never existed.
On the same day, in the evening.
New York, East Manhattan.
Aruru stood on the street opposite the Hammer Industries building.
At this moment, he was silently observing the building.
There was no other reason than that he needed an identity.
An identity that allows entry into this building and access to its core area.
He could have directly taken control of the company with his unparalleled resources.
But reality told him that if he did that, he would immediately make the front page headlines.
The result would be that his mission to conceal his identity would immediately fail.
Thinking of this, he glanced at his current appearance.
He has a bald head, Middle East face, and a muscular build of 1.9 meters.
This kind of appearance works well in the desert, but it's clearly not suitable for an office building in New York.
Two hours earlier, he had tried walking directly through the main entrance of the Justin Hammer Building.
The lobby security guard looked him up and down, his gaze lingering on his bald head and tight T-shirt for a long time.
"Sir, do you have an appointment? Here, even robberies require an appointment."
Aruru paused for a moment, not understanding what he meant, but still answered expressionlessly, "I'm here for a job interview."
The security guard raised an eyebrow.
How dare someone who looks like that apply for a job?
Could they be here to steal my job?!
"Okay, what position are you applying for?"
Aruru quickly reviewed the names of Earthling professions he had retrieved from Benjamin's memories.
Unfortunately, Benjamin is a terrorist, and his memory bank contains very little information about respectable professions.
"Um... a doorman."
The security guard was silent for two seconds.
Fuck!
They're really here to steal our jobs!!
If I let you in today, I don't believe Bruce!
"Sir, please leave."
Aruru was brought out without any explanation.
Fortunately, he wasn't angry.
For him, anger is an inefficient emotion.
He simply moved across the street to the Starbucks and found a window seat.
Because he was barefoot, wearing an ill-fitting T-shirt, and was ridiculously large, the customers next to him quickly changed seats.
Another office lady glanced at him, her expression as if she had seen an escaped convict.
Aruru didn't care about any of that.
The social rules of Earthlings were as foreign to him as an alien language.
He sat there quietly, scanning everyone entering and leaving the Hammer Industries building with his emotionless eyes.
They spent the entire afternoon looking at it.
Finally, he locked onto a target.
Vince Carter.
Forty-eight years old, bald, slightly overweight, deputy head of the weapons research and development department at Hammer Industries.
The reason for choosing him is simple.
This person always leaves work alone, without any colleagues to accompany him, and no one comes to pick him up.
His work badge was hanging around his neck, indicating a high level of safety.
Third, and most importantly.
As Vince passed by the Starbucks window, he inadvertently made eye contact with Aruru was sitting inside.
Vince then instinctively quickened his pace.
In Aruru's cognitive system, someone who fears him is equivalent to a weak prey.
Weak prey are the easiest targets.
Clear logic, efficient decision-making.
The tracking process is very simple.
Vince walks slowly and has absolutely no awareness of being tracked.
He walked all the way to the subway station, rode for four stops, and then walked back to his apartment building in the East District.
Aruru followed behind, maintaining a distance of about thirty meters at all times.
Vince looked at his phone the entire time and didn't turn around once.
Well, this is a poor guy.
Entering the apartment is simpler.
After Aruru and Vince entered the building, they flew straight up.
The apartment is on the seventh floor, and the windows are unlocked.
Aruru landed silently on the floor of the room.
He heard the Fridge door open in the kitchen, followed by the sound of beer bottle caps popping open.
Vince took the beer and walked out of the kitchen, closing the Fridge door.
Then I saw Aruru standing in the living room.
The beer bottle fell from his hand.
The sound of the shattering bottle was jarring in the quiet apartment, and more like a signal of action.
The rest was a natural progression.
Aruru doesn't like wasting time.
Two and a half minutes later, the apartment returned to silence.
There was a withered body on the floor.
The body's mouth was open, frozen in place on the unspoken cry for help.
Aruru withdrew the black substance and closed his eyes.
The next second, a flood of memories rushed into his brain.
This is Vince Carter's 48 years of life.
Childhood, school, university, work, marriage.
Arguing, working overtime, being scolded by the boss, being ostracized by colleagues.
His wife complained about his low salary, so he did countless failed tests in the lab.
Most importantly, there's Vince's understanding of Hammer Industries.
For example, organizational structure, security procedures, core projects, and interpersonal networks.
Aruru took about ten seconds to process this information.
Then, he went into the bathroom.
The next second, his body began to change.
His height is decreasing, from 1.9 meters to 1.75 meters.
The muscles are atrophying, leaving a slight feeling of looseness.
Thinning hair grew on the top of her head, her waistline thickened, and the contours of her face became rounder.
A dozen seconds later, the person standing in the mirror was no longer Benjamin, but Vince Carter.
Looking down at the new body, it was half a head shorter, a bit fatter, and felt soft to the touch.
To be honest, he felt somewhat uncomfortable in this body.
But there's no way around it; it's required for the mission.
He looked in the mirror again and began practicing his smile.
Vince's memory tells him that when he smiles, the corner of his mouth turns to the right.
What is this?!
Is he the God of the Crooked Mouth?
But he didn't think much of it and decided to give it a try.
Unfortunately, the corner of his mouth is crooked to the left.
No, no, that's not right.
Try again.
This time it veered to the right, but the deviation was too great; it looks like the Nike logo.
That smile gave him the illusion that he immediately wanted to go out and show off, and that someone was ready to tear his mouth apart.
OK, let's try again.
This time, the intensity was controlled, but the eyes didn't follow the smile.
His entire face became a bizarre combination of an expressionless upper half and a wide grin on the lower half.
What is this? An accountant plotting a murder forcing a smile?!
Aruru practiced in front of the mirror for ten minutes.
In the end, he managed to come up with a version that barely passed the test.
It's not perfect, but it's good enough.
Earthlings' social skills are far less acute in their perception of details than they think.
He rummaged through Vince's closet and picked out a simple shirt and trousers to wear.
Before leaving, he passed through the living room, his gaze sweeping over a photo frame on the coffee table.
The framed photo contains a picture of Vince and his wife.
The two stood on the beach, laughing happily.
Aruru watched curiously for a while, recalling Vince and his wife's memories in her mind.
"Your husband loves you very much."
He said it in the tone of an Earthling he had learned from his memories.
After a pause, he continued.
"But I will cherish you for his sake."
After saying that, he turned and left.
The door lock clicked shut.
He was going out to forage for food to see if he could find anything good; he had been starving for a long time.