Location: Stark Industries, Private Workshop – September 1943
The clang of hammer against steel echoed in Rayn's private workshop deep within Stark Industries. Unlike the bustling factory floors or the glossy executive rooms, this chamber was raw—lined with chalkboard sketches, old mechanical parts, and secret compartments locked with biometric safes.
Here, Rayn worked alone.
Spread out on the table were several concepts he had drafted from memory: blueprints for early body armor, stabilizer recoil systems, modified grenades, and a few crude vehicle upgrades—nothing too advanced. He had already shelved the schematics for drones, arc reactors, or railguns.
Too early, he thought. These would twist the timeline, or worse—fall into the wrong hands.
Instead, he focused on practical upgrades:
Simpler versions of telescopic sights.
Lightweight, fast-dismantling field weapons.
Improved communication devices based on World War II radio tech, subtly upgraded using knowledge from his past life.
Each blueprint he handed over to Stark's development team was deliberate. Useful. Smart. But not catastrophic.
---
Stark's Office – Same Day
Howard entered Rayn's office with a grin and a thick stack of contracts.
"The British loved the MPX variation. They want fifty prototypes for field testing in Tunisia. And the Pentagon's funding another research extension."
Rayn took the documents without looking up from a sketch. "Just don't let them replicate the firing mechanisms too fast. Let them think it'll take months. We control the tempo."
Howard raised a brow. "Slowing down innovation? That's not like you."
Rayn looked him in the eye. "We change too much, too fast, we kill a thousand futures. One step at a time."
Howard nodded slowly. "Smart... You've been thinking about consequences, haven't you?"
"All the time."
---
Location: U.S. Army Awards Ceremony – Washington D.C.
Two weeks later, Rayn stood tall in front of a sea of uniformed soldiers, journalists, and military officials. His tailored uniform bore his new rank: Lieutenant Colonel—a meteoric rise that turned heads across every division of the army.
A general handed him a commendation. "For tactical innovation, battlefield leadership, and revolutionary armament development. You are, without question, a pillar of our war effort."
Cameras flashed. Applause thundered. But Rayn's face remained composed. He hadn't done it for fame.
Later, in private, Steve Rogers approached him backstage, still dressed in his Captain America costume, having just finished another war bonds performance.
Steve clapped a hand on Rayn's shoulder. "They're calling you the Army's secret weapon."
Rayn smirked. "Only secret part is how I get so much done on four hours of sleep."
Steve gave a wry smile, then said quietly, "Still using that shadow thing?"
Rayn nodded faintly. "Only when I have to. No one else knows. I intend to keep it that way."
"I trust you," Steve said. "But don't carry it all alone, Rayn."
Rayn gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Worry about your dance routines, Star-Spangled Man."
Steve laughed. "Yeah, yeah. But when the time comes... you'll call me, right?"
Rayn looked at him with a calm sincerity. "I will."
---
Later That Night – Stark Industries Private Lounge
Howard poured two glasses of aged whiskey as jazz played softly in the background. "To partners," he toasted, holding out a glass.
"To vision," Rayn replied.
They drank.
Howard leaned back. "So, what do we call all this? These projects… this partnership?"
Rayn paused. "Call it what it is. A foundation. Stark Group now stands on two legs."
Howard raised his glass again. "To the future."
Rayn looked out the window. The moon reflected faintly off the Hudson River. He knew it was just the beginning. There were other worlds. Other threats. And other technologies better left untouched—for now.
But his place here? His influence? His reach?
It was only growing.
---
To Be Continued in Part 5…