At the same time, at Hammer Industries headquarters, in the research and development laboratory.
Justin Hammer plugged the USB drive into the isolated terminal.
However, even though he wasn't connected to the internet, he still had that much security awareness.
He then spent nearly four hours studying the contents.
He was very excited at first; his hands were shaking when he opened the file.
Then he saw the theoretical framework on the first page.
"Wait... this formula isn't right, is it? Wait a minute, I think I saw this when I was studying at MIT..."
He paused for a moment, stunned.
Oh, he didn't go to MIT.
Never mind, let's skip this.
The second page contains the parameter design for the energy module.
"What does this variable represent? P-sub-k... is it power? Or pressure? Never mind, I'll guess it's temperature."
He kept guessing as he read on.
"If this parameter is temperature... then the core temperature of this reactor needs to reach..."
He picked up the calculator and pressed a few buttons.
Then his eyes widened.
"This is hotter than the surface of the sun!!"
He jumped up excitedly and rushed to the blackboard to start sketching.
However, after drawing for a while, I realized I had drawn it backwards.
It's okay, just erase it and start over.
He probably only understood about 60% of what was on the USB drive.
But 60% is enough; enough for him to see a possibility.
Moreover, it represents a possibility that could allow them to directly challenge Stark.
He stood in front of the blackboard and drew a rough outline of a mecha.
This silhouette is larger, more rugged, and heavier than the Mark Armor.
They don't pursue elegance, they only pursue the aesthetics of violence.
He hesitated for a moment, then wrote a line of text above the outline.
" War Machine ".
I looked at it, felt something was off, and crossed it out.
Then I rewrote Justin Hammer Iron Man.
Fuck, that's even more wrong.
That's so low-class! Cross it out again.
Finally, he wrote Justin Hammer Armor No. 1.
I stared at it for a while, but I was still not satisfied.
But the blackboard was already a mess of scribbles from him.
The remnants of several rejected names were tangled together, resembling a crime scene.
"Never mind, we'll talk about the name later."
Justin Hammer threw down his pen, took two steps back, put his hands on his hips, and examined his masterpiece.
Although his drawing resembled a kindergarten art assignment, he saw a future in it.
A future that belongs to Justin Hammer.
The next morning.
The lobby on the first floor of the Hammer Industries headquarters building.
Vince Carter arrived at the company entrance precisely at 8:15 a. m.
He swiped his work card, and with a beep, the access control light turned green.
He walked into the lobby and smiled at the receptionist.
The receptionist returned a professional smile, then muttered something to herself.
Vince's smile is really strange today.
The standards are there, but they're so high they're almost frightening, like practicing in front of a mirror.
Vince walked through the lobby and greeted several colleagues who were walking towards him.
"Good morning, Bob."
"Hi, Linda."
" Jerry, your tie is crooked."
Every word, every tone, every subtle pause—it was exactly like the real Vince.
Because all of these were copied from Vince's memories.
However, there is still one minor flaw.
The real Vince walks with a slight pigeon-toed gait, and his left foot lands a beat slower than his right.
This is a habit I developed after injuring my knee while playing football when I was younger.
Vince's pace, however, is as steady as a metronome.
Every step was precise and even, so perfect it seemed inhuman.
Of course, no one would notice details of this magnitude.
Apart from one type of person, there is another type of person who has received professional training.
Vince walked down the corridor with a cup of coffee in his hand, heading towards Justin Hammer's office.
Today's first goal is to get Justin Hammer used to his presence.
No rush, take your time.
First establish trust, then penetrate, and finally...
bite.
The elevator doors at the end of the corridor opened.
A man in a dark gray suit came out.
This is the face of the stranger I Justin Hammer in the parking lot yesterday.
He came today to follow up and confirm whether Justin Hammer had looked at the USB drive, so that we can move on to the next step of cooperation.
Two people walked towards each other in the corridor.
Vince nodded politely when he saw the other person.
Good morning.
The contact person nodded slightly and returned a smile.
Good morning.
The two passed each other.
Then.
The same thought flashed through their minds almost simultaneously.
Vince continued walking forward without showing any emotion, but he had already completed an analysis in his mind.
This person's gait is too steady.
That kind of self-control is something only someone who has undergone long-term training could possess.
This guy is definitely not an ordinary business visitor.
The contact person also slowed down a bit.
He noticed something was off about Vince's smile.
It feels... too standard.
It's so standard it looks like it was copied from an instruction manual.
A normal person's laughter has a degree of randomness.
The contact person frowned slightly, but did not turn around.
It should be nothing serious; he's probably just overthinking it.
After all, it's normal for people working in places like this to have a slightly stiff social smile.
The two of them went their separate ways.
They went their separate ways, and then gradually drifted apart.
It was almost noon.
Hammer Industries headquarters, research and development laboratory.
Justin Hammer finally had a direction for his research.
The table was piled high with documents, drawings, and half-eaten sandwiches.
The mecha sketch has been filled with numerous parameters and annotations.
Justin Hammer himself was very satisfied with this.
He stood in front of the blackboard with his hands on his hips, already envisioning the future in his mind.
For example, he would stand in a mecha suit at a press conference at the Pentagon, with reporters from all over the world taking pictures of him, and generals lining up to shake his hand...
Lost in his fantasies, he unconsciously pulled out his phone and, as if possessed, opened Twitter.
The finger automatically navigated to Luca Stark's profile page.
The latest update was posted by Luca two hours ago.
This is a selfie.
Luca lay by the pool, wearing sunglasses, with two bikini-clad beauties beside him, sunlight illuminating his well-defined physique.
Luca's caption consisted of only three words.
"Good weather."
That damn bastard, even his photo angle is perfect.
What's even more infuriating is that 90% of the 350,000 comments in the comment section are just people licking the screen.
"Honey, I'm in!!"
" Superman, please look at me!"
"What an amazing figure!!"
Justin Hammer stared at the selfie for a while.
Then, he slammed his phone down on the table.
"Just you wait, Stark."
"You won't be a hero forever."