The early morning sunlight streamed through the transparent floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a faint golden glow across the room. John stood quietly in the light, holding two pieces of metal in his hands. Golden flames danced over the metal, radiating intense heat that distorted the air.
"It really is resistant to high temperatures," John muttered, pinching the golden flame between his fingers and letting it flicker out. These two pieces, salvaged from the Destroyer, were only slightly deformed. Melting this magical metal was challenging, but reshaping it after it had already been forged was even more difficult.
Bathed in the morning sunshine, John's eyes seemed to reflect a trace of that golden light, giving him a rare air of tranquility. Yet he could not help but sigh. "It's really inconvenient to be in this place." For all its grandeur, this mansion that others might dream of was not as comfortable to him as his small house in London. Here, in the heart of the city and surrounded by people, many of his methods could not be used freely.
His parents had not returned, and his sister was still away. The house felt empty, and he wondered if it was time to move on.
The doorbell rang, breaking his train of thought. John put away the metal and walked downstairs. As he reached the entryway, he heard the door open.
Natasha swept in, wearing a low-cut black dress that contrasted beautifully with her wavy red hair. Rimless glasses perched on her nose, giving her an air of intellectual elegance.
John sighed, half amused, half helpless. "You really can't just pick the lock and walk in every time, Miss Romanoff?"
Natasha rolled her eyes. "If my boss could remember that today is the last delivery date for his military order, maybe I would wait for him to take his time."
"Today?" John slapped his forehead, suddenly remembering. "I knew something was supposed to happen today."
Natasha only sneered at his forgetfulness. She strode in, tablet in hand, moving through the house as if it were her own. "You haven't even gone to the company once since you made that agreement with General Ross," she said, her tone sharp.
"I need safety," John replied, heading to the kitchen to grind fresh coffee beans. "Didn't you say it yourself? The Ten Rings Gang is watching eagerly from outside."
The grinder's noise drowned out Natasha's reply. She waited, tapping her foot impatiently, until the beans were finished.
She stepped closer and turned off the grinder. "You issued the bounty at the Continental Hotel. The leader of the Ten Rings Gang has been silent for half a month now. Not even SHIELD knows if he is dead or alive."
Natasha fixed her gaze on John's lips. "Where did you get the money? Were you responsible for what happened in Hell and Heaven? And what about the underground vault where all the gangs in Hell's Kitchen keep their cash?"
She fired off her questions in rapid succession, but John couldn't help noticing how she kept avoiding his gaze. Leaning in so close their noses nearly touched, he gave her a mischievous smile. "Isn't it polite to look someone in the eye when you're talking to them?"
Natasha turned her head away. "It's also polite to answer when someone asks a question."
John laughed, scooping the ground coffee into the machine. As the rich aroma filled the kitchen, he said, "You seem to know a lot. SHIELD really is powerful."
"Not SHIELD," Natasha replied, her face serious. "It's me."
John raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "You are really immodest."
"I have been checking for five years, ever since the attack," Natasha said. "And even now, I still can't understand you."
John handed her a cup of coffee and led the way to the living room. He was not surprised by her caution. In their world, trust was a luxury no agent could afford.
"Give me some good news, Miss Romanoff," John said as he settled onto the sofa. The television flicked on by itself, and he sipped his coffee while Natasha opened her tablet.
"Hammer Industrial Weapons R&D has finished assembling the new Iron Soldier. It is headed to the Air Force base for testing today," she reported. "And news about the new energy development department at Taran Industries has leaked. The media is not optimistic, and the stock price has taken a hit."
John nodded. "Even Stark Industries was mocked when it shut down its weapons division and shifted to energy. Their stock price fell too. People think Taran Industries should learn from Stark, but Taran doesn't have Iron Man."
Or do they? John smiled to himself, thinking of the fools who would regret selling their shares in a panic.
Natasha watched him, unable to read his thoughts. Even SHIELD could not see how Taran Industries would survive by playing with energy in a world dominated by Stark.
The peaceful morning passed quickly. When it was time to leave, a new car waited outside. Ferdinand sat behind the wheel, still chewing on a sandwich his mother had made. He jumped out to open the door for John.
"Natalie, this way," he called.
"I know," Natasha replied, taking her seat in the passenger side. She raised her eyebrows at John. "He doesn't like sitting with others."
Ferdinand, sensing tension between his boss and the assistant, kept his questions to himself. The car Roman had driven was still in the shop, and it would be weeks before it was ready. John figured it would be a while before his father bought a new one.
Ferdinand's driving was still bold, but he was more restrained now. They headed to Hammer Industries, where John, now majority owner and chairman, went straight to the workshop.
A brand-new Iron Soldier stood on the platform, two meters tall and bristling with Hammer weapons. It was an army combat model, and only one man worked in the entire shop.
Ivan, now clean-shaven and looking ten years younger, sat at a computer, fingers dancing over the keyboard. A white parrot beside him nibbled nuts and sipped from a beer can.
John tossed a peanut to the parrot. "Is the program ready?"
Ivan took a swig of beer and nodded. "Just one step away from success."
Natasha entered and frowned, recognizing Ivan from the last time he had caused trouble at Hammer Industries. Ivan remembered her too. "Women are like poisoned wine," he muttered in Russian.
John grinned at Natasha. "We are going to the air force base this afternoon."
Ivan shook his head. "You go. I am a dead man now. I do not want to waste my life before I finish my revenge against Stark Industries."
John nodded in understanding. "Then you drink your vodka here, but remember, parrots should not drink too much."
Ivan laughed and handed the beer to the parrot. "My bird is different. It never gets drunk."
Natasha checked her phone. "General Ross is ready at the air force base."
"Have the crew transport the Iron Soldiers," John said.
Ivan unplugged a USB drive and slipped it into his pocket. "This is my own optimized system program," he explained, catching John's curious glance.
That afternoon, at the air base in the desert, General Ross inspected the new Iron Soldier. It was different from the one he had seen at the expo. John wore a suit and a rare tie, standing before the Iron Soldiers and facing a group led by General Ross. Among them was an old friend: Rhodes.
When Rhodes saw the Iron Soldier, he almost suited up to destroy it. He eyed John warily. Recreating the Iron Soldier was not something Hammer Industries or Taran Industries could do alone. There was only one person who could be behind it: Ivan.
John gestured, and the Iron Soldier began its demonstration. First was the speed test. On the battlefield, speed and defense are everything. The Iron Soldier ran at full speed, easily outpacing an off-road jeep. Its defensive power was astonishing. Bullets bounced off harmlessly, and even artillery left only a scorch mark on the coating.
The Iron Soldier's shoulder-mounted missile pods opened, unleashing a barrage that leveled a small hill in seconds. The magazines were replaceable, allowing for quick reloading. Its arms were equipped with powerful guns that shredded cars to pieces. When it rammed a tank at full speed, the tank nearly flipped.
The test covered mobility, defense, and destructive power. General Ross's stern face softened with satisfaction. Compared to the previous version, which had been cobbled together from existing materials, this model was entirely supervised by Ivan and was vastly superior.
Even Rhodes had to admit that with these machines, America's security would be ironclad. Still, he raised a concern. "What about safety? Last time, the Iron Soldiers were remotely controlled, and New York suffered heavy losses."
John reassured him. "Each Iron Soldier has an independent network and server. Unless someone can physically steal the internal server, it is impossible to hack them."
Simple and crude, but effective.
After the demonstration, General Ross shook John's hand. "You kept your promise, Mr. Wick."
John smiled. "It is just an exchange of value—money for technology."
"We want fifty units, and the Navy and Air Force series as well," Ross said. This was an order worth billions, enough to revive Hammer Industries overnight.
John nodded. "My assistant will arrange everything."
He winked at Natasha, who was already preparing the paperwork. The return of Hammer Industries had not yet been announced, but when it was, the company would reclaim its place as a leader in weapons manufacturing.