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Upgrading Emil's spine was only the first step.
A cybernetic spine could restore movement, stabilize posture, and give a soldier a second chance—but it wasn't enough to truly unlock the Sandevistan neural operating system. If James wanted that system to perform at full potential, Emil would need supporting hardware, the kind that worked together like a full combat package.
Reinforced tendons could increase raw strength and explosiveness. Auxiliary circulatory implants—like secondary hearts, bio-detectors, and internal regulators—could push endurance, speed recovery, and keep vital signs stable even under extreme stress.
But James was careful.
Because the truth was simple: all of these implants were never meant to turn a human into a walking machine by itself. In James's mind, cybernetics and exoskeleton armor were supposed to work together—one improves the signal, the other carries the load.
That balance mattered.
James had no interest in creating a new Adam Smasher inside the Marvel universe. That kind of full-body conversion would cross too many lines too fast. It would trigger ethical panic, political alarms, and endless attention from every agency that believed "public safety" meant "owning whatever scares them."
And Emil? Emil was already unstable. James could see it in his eyes, in the way he held himself, in the hunger for power that wasn't even hiding.
If James pushed too many implants into him, Emil might not become a controlled weapon.
He might become something worse—a walking breakdown.
Not an Abomination.
A cyberpsycho.
And that would be a waste.
So James chose the smarter path.
Instead of stacking dangerous implants inside Emil's body, he built strength where it belonged—outside the body.
Exoskeletal armor.
With cybernetics as the foundation and armor as the amplifier, Emil could become terrifying… but still controllable.
For Emil's current condition, James designed a simplified version of a "Gorilla" combat implant package—stripped down, safer, and built around a practical purpose. He removed the gravity control system entirely and enhanced the kinetic movement device instead, adding a rocket backpack for burst mobility.
When Emil wore the full rig, it looked like someone had dressed him in a three-meter-tall steel doll.
"Neural connection complete…"
"Initiating body calibration… wearer, please move your arms…"
Researchers recorded data while giving steady instructions. Emil lifted his arms. Rotated his shoulders. Took careful steps. The armor copied him smoothly, like the machine was learning his body in real time.
Outside the testing bay, Natalie watched through the glass. After a long silence, she turned slightly toward James, testing the question like she was stepping on thin ice.
"Boss… didn't Stark Industries close its weapons division?"
"It did close," James replied without looking up.
He was lounging on the sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine like a man deciding what outfit to wear to a funeral. His mind was already on tonight's date—the cover girl he'd been planning to see.
Natalie's eyes narrowed. "Then what is that?"
James didn't even blink. "Industrial exoskeleton."
Natalie paused. "…Industrial?"
"Yep." James smiled and nodded proudly. "For construction sites. Moving bricks and steel beams. Isn't that a great idea?"
He gave himself a strong thumbs-up like he deserved an award.
He was already planning the next step: reduce the rig further, keep only the arm exoskeleton, and push it as a mainstream tool. He could already see it—contractors buying it, companies renting it, workers wearing it like equipment instead of armor.
James had done this before.
He had taken cybernetics and packaged them as medical products.
Now he would take exoskeleton armor and package it as industrial equipment.
And if people argued?
James didn't care.
The power of definition belonged to capital. Stark Industries was a giant, and giants didn't ask permission—they shaped the rules. If the military supported the "medical" label for cybernetics and the "industrial" label for exoskeletons, then the debate would die quickly.
Restrictive software patches. Limited performance. Security locks.
Once those were in place, who could call them weapons?
Cars could kill people too, but no one called cars "military equipment."
As for who controlled those restriction systems…
James didn't mention it.
Better not to ask. It made things awkward.
Natalie stared at him, unsure whether he was joking or dead serious.
James had a history—he had turned a smart toilet into a luxury tech revolution. So it was absolutely possible he'd turn "brick-moving armor" into the next gold rush.
He leaned back and spoke like a lecturer scolding a student.
"We can't abandon progress just because there are risks. Look at my smartphone—Hammer. People online say we built it to monitor the world, but it genuinely changed how people exchange information."
The phone had become a global obsession. With Tony publicly endorsing and promoting it, demand exploded so hard supply couldn't catch up. It became both technology and fashion—something people wanted for status as much as function.
Some idiots even sold kidneys to buy one.
That kind of mania also angered competitors. Older tech manufacturers launched attacks online. Public debates turned nasty. Accusations flew.
But Tony had one gift no rival could match: a mouth sharp enough to slice steel.
He fought the war publicly, insulting opponents so efficiently that Stark Industries saved a fortune in PR spending.
Natalie spoke carefully. "Hammer? Didn't Tony name it Ap—"
"Shut up," James snapped, instantly annoyed. "Don't listen to what Tony says. To me, it will always be my Hammer."
Tony had used his chairmanship and controlling stake to forcibly rename the phone right before launch.
James had not forgotten.
He would collect that debt later.
And the image formed in his mind made him smile.
One day, when Tony finally died of old age—or stupidity—James would sit in Tony's office, drink his treasured red wine, smoke his expensive cigars, and then… spank Tony's kid for fun.
Natalie felt a chill for no reason and silently offered a prayer for Tony's future.
As if summoned by bad thoughts, Tony arrived at that exact moment.
He didn't knock. He pushed the door open and walked in like the building belonged to him—which, technically, it did. He dropped into a seat in front of James.
He smelled strongly of perfume.
He had definitely just left a room full of women.
But unlike his old self, Tony wasn't "taking anyone home" anymore. He was simply passing through the world's temptations with a strange discipline.
Because his heart belonged somewhere else.
Natalie noticed it instantly and stood.
"I'll get coffee," she said, and left without needing to be told.
Tony watched her walk away and whistled softly. "Your secretary is really good. Why don't you let her work for me?"
James gave him a flat look. "Didn't Pepper find you three new secretaries?"
"They're all duds," Tony sighed. "Don't even mention it."
Tony's relationship with Pepper had cooled recently. They had been so close to becoming something real.
But Tony had pulled back on purpose.
He was carrying a secret problem that could kill him. And he wasn't going to step forward with Pepper while death hovered behind him.
After a brief silence, Tony finally got to the real reason he came.
"You didn't show that report to anyone else, did you?"
James raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to tell people you're dying?"
He moved closer and put an arm around Tony's shoulder like a comforting brother.
"Don't worry. After you die, I'll take care of Pepper. You don't have family, so as one of your few friends, I'll reluctantly become your primary heir."
Tony's glare could've melted concrete.
"I'M NOT DEAD YET!"
James nodded thoughtfully. "Well… you're close."
Tony's survival instinct flared. He almost felt healthier out of pure anger.
James pulled up the medical report again, scrolling calmly.
"Your palladium toxin content is probably above thirty percent." He paused. "But that's minor, Tony. What I want to know is… when did you get kidney deficiency?"
Tony exploded.
"WHO has kidney deficiency?! I'm just dying! My kidneys are fine!"
Dying was one thing.
But James insulting his masculinity?
That was unforgivable.
Tony grabbed James by the collar like he was about to throw him through a wall.
James raised both hands quickly. "Calm down. Kidney deficiency can be treated. I have a secret remedy."
Tony froze.
"…Really?"
He slowly loosened his grip and unconsciously smoothed James's collar like he hadn't just tried to murder him.
James nodded with perfect seriousness. "Don't misunderstand. I'm asking for a friend."
"I believe you," James said with a straight face, giving Tony a dignified exit.
And the truth was… James did have treatment options. In his old world, the rich lived far wilder than Tony, and high-level medical tech existed to keep them "functional." That field had developed heavily.
James could become the richest man alive just by releasing those medical technologies.
But he wasn't here for that.
A knock interrupted them.
Natalie returned with two cups of coffee. She had clearly waited outside long enough to hear them arguing about death and kidney deficiency like idiots.
She placed the cups down like a professional trying not to judge.
Tony took one sip, then waved dismissively. "Coffee's fine. If there's nothing else, you can leave."
He only said it politely because Natalie was attractive. Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered.
Once she left, James brought the talk back to the real problem.
"What's your plan? Don't tell me you're waiting to die."
Tony leaned back, exhausted. "I planned to have Stephen remove the shrapnel. He's the only surgeon I trusted to do it. But he got into a car accident. Both hands destroyed. He can't hold a scalpel anymore."
Tony's luck was almost comedic.
James asked what he really cared about. "What about improving the Arc Reactor? New element?"
Tony's expression darkened. "Can't. I've tried everything available on Earth."
For once, Tony looked powerless.
James tapped the report and said quietly, "Worst case, I'll replace your heart."
He slid Emil's experimental data across the desk.
Tony scanned it and his eyes widened. "Your cybernetic tech is already at this level?"
He had assumed cybernetic solutions wouldn't reach the "heart replacement" stage fast enough to matter.
But James had moved faster than anyone expected.
"Consider yourself lucky," James said. "I found Emil."
Tony exhaled, and some of the pressure left his face. His eyes became brighter again, like he'd been pulled back from the edge.
Then James leaned forward with a grin.
"Now tell me… how do you plan to repay me?"
Tony smirked, pulled out a pen, and wrote a phone number on a sheet of paper. He slid it across the desk like a bribe.
"This is the contact info for the CEO of Victoria's Secret."
James stared at it like he was looking at divine scripture.
"You truly are my brother from another mother and father."
He wrote it down carefully.
From today onward, Victoria's Secret would hold no secrets from him.
The two men left the office with arms around each other's shoulders like best friends who just solved death using jokes and money.
---
A Spy Returns to Work
Minutes later, Natalie walked back into the director's office alone.
She didn't clean the cups immediately.
Instead, she sat in James's chair, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a USB drive.
She inserted it into the computer.
Because she wasn't here to be a secretary.
She was here to collect intelligence.
The biggest concern wasn't the phone, or the toilets, or even the implants.
It was the war-grade hardware that had quietly vanished into James's hands.
The Iron Monger body.
A weapon of war—now missing.
Her objective was clear: find where James stored it, and what he planned to do with it.
She searched the hard drive thoroughly.
Nothing.
No obvious blueprints. No weapon logs. No secret project folder.
James's system was cleaner than it should've been.
Too clean.
But she did find one thing: a shipping manifest pattern that pointed toward a suspicious warehouse address.
Natalie memorized it.
Then she wiped her traces flawlessly and removed the USB drive, leaving the office exactly as she found it—like innocence itself.
But the truth was already in her pocket.
And whatever was hidden in that warehouse…
…was going to matter.
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Extra chapters available on patreon ❤️🔥
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