Nolan Lock leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked across the desk at General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross. He had always liked guests who came to him with clarity and decisiveness it saved so much unnecessary negotiation.
"One unit costs ten million dollars," Nolan said casually, as though he were quoting the price of a fine bottle of wine rather than a war machine. "That includes the body of the unit itself. Maintenance, protection, and ammunition refills, however, will all need to be handled exclusively through Lock Technologies."
Ross's stern features broke into a rare smile. Ten million a piece he liked that number.
The T-800s were impressive, no doubt, with their intelligence and versatility. But if those machines ever went head-to-head with the walking arsenal Nolan had just shown him, Ross had no doubt the T-800s would be reduced to scrap metal within minutes. Of course, he wasn't foolish enough to dismiss the T-800 entirely. The two designs served entirely different purposes, each a masterpiece in its own field.
"I'll take fifty," Ross declared with a sweep of his hand.
The room seemed to brighten instantly. That was a clean five-hundred-million-dollar deal, signed without hesitation. Nolan's grin widened.
The APU exoskeletons were a minimalist's dream in terms of design raw power packaged with brutal simplicity. Even with the added ballistic shielding he'd built in, the production cost of each unit was barely two million. That meant five times the profit margin. Not highway robbery, but the real genius was elsewhere.
The true gold mine lay in the specialized ammunition and long-term maintenance, subtle costs that would drain money steadily into his coffers like a river feeding the sea.
Ross, for his part, was equally delighted. Along with the APU units, he placed a large order for more T-800s and several batches of ExoSuit combat armor. In total, the deal exceeded a billion dollars. A perfect business partner, Nolan thought.
"Dr. Lock," Ross said with satisfaction, "if you develop anything else of value, contact me directly. I promise Lock Technologies will never lack for buyers."
Many men had said that to him before. But Nolan believed Ross. The general wasn't bluffing he had the resources to back up his words.
Money flowed from the military like blood from a beating heart. First came S.H.I.E.L.D., the undisputed powerhouse of the world's defense budgets. But next in line was the United States military itself. Ross commanded one of its most elite branches the Hulkbuster Unit. Their budget alone rivaled S.H.I.E.L.D.'s.
A genuine tycoon.
Ross paused before leaving. "By the way, Dr. Lock. There's a defense bid scheduled next week. You might want to attend. Beyond standard weapon contracts, there will be other… items. I believe you'll find them interesting."
His gaze lingered on Nolan, heavy with unspoken meaning.
Nolan arched a brow. Of course he already knew about the upcoming bid he'd planned to attend. But the general's tone suggested there was more beneath the surface. Something unusual.
"Thank you for the reminder," Nolan replied evenly. "I'll be there."
The next two days passed in a blur of work. Nolan locked himself in his lab, emerging only on the third morning, looking like he had fought a war with equations and machinery. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair a tangled mess.
Catching sight of his reflection in a steel panel, Nolan couldn't help but chuckle. "God, I really am becoming more like Tony Stark."
Rubbing at his eyes, he pushed open the door to his office only to stop short. Something was different. The room had been tidied. Papers were neatly stacked, cables coiled, and even the faint smell of coffee hung in the air.
He dialed Simon Phillips, his company president.
"Simon," Nolan asked dryly, "someone's been in my office?"
"Yes, sir," Simon answered promptly. "You've been buried in the lab for days. I thought the workload was getting to you, so I took the liberty of hiring an assistant. If you're unhappy with her, I can have her reassigned immediately."
Nolan glanced around again. The orderliness was… refreshing. Even the coffee on his desk was still warm, the aroma tinged with a delicate floral note. He took a sip and smiled. It was good. Very good.
"Forget it," he said at last. "It's fine."
Truth be told, he knew his life was a bit of a mess. Jessica Jones certainly wasn't the type to straighten things up, and frankly, an assistant wasn't a bad idea. Besides, he was no longer just a lone genius tinkering in a garage. He was a rising titan of industry. It was only natural that he should have someone by his side.
Moments later, the office door opened.
The woman who stepped in was striking. She wore a fitted skirt suit with sharp lines, her heels clicking against the floor as she moved. Her poise was professional, her beauty undeniable.
"Boss, my name is Sharon Carter," she said with a calm, self-assured smile.
Nolan nodded absently, then paused. "Wait… what did you say your name was?"
"Sharon Carter," she repeated, her brows knitting slightly in confusion.
Nolan's eyes narrowed as he studied her. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. "You're very beautiful. Perhaps, someday, we can have a deeper conversation."
Sharon's response was a perfect professional smile pleasant, but cool.
Nolan wasn't surprised. Sharon Carter, Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. Clearly Fury's handiwork.
She was no Natasha Romanoff, though. Her youth gave her away; she was still a rookie compared to that hardened spy. And even if Natasha herself had been sent, it wouldn't have mattered. None of them could touch the true secrets of Lock Technologies. Every critical blueprint, every line of code, every innovation it all lived inside Nolan's mind.
"Well then," Nolan said smoothly, "welcome aboard. From this moment, you're my personal assistant. You'll handle daily matters office upkeep, schedules, coffee, the little things. But stay out of the areas you don't understand. Those are not for you."
Sharon inclined her head politely.
Nolan smirked, then raised his voice. "Red Queen, meet my new employee."
Instantly, the holographic avatar of the Red Queen flickered to life beside him.
Sharon stiffened. Artificial intelligence here, in this office, watching her.
"Ms. Carter," the Red Queen said in her cool, modulated voice, "since entering this room, your heart rate has spiked three times. Facial microexpressions indicate heightened stress. You may relax."
Sharon froze, her smile faltering.
Nolan chuckled. "That's enough, Red. Sharon is new. Nervousness is normal."
The AI disappeared. Sharon exhaled slowly, but Nolan could still see the tension in her shoulders. The confident stride she had carried in with was gone, replaced by a cautious stiffness.
A rookie, indeed.
He returned to his work, unconcerned. Fury always planted his agents. Nolan had expected this for some time. If Sharon could do her job, that was enough.
At last, he looked up. "Get ready. You're coming with me."
"Where to?" Sharon asked.
"Stark Industries," Nolan said with a thin smile.
Stark Tower loomed over the skyline as imposing as ever, its polished glass catching the morning sun.
Nolan stepped from his car. Behind him, Sharon followed in a fresh outfit white blouse, black skirt. This one was more form-fitting, the fabric whispering suggestion with every movement. The top strained slightly at the chest, and the skirt rode shorter than before.
Her expression, however, was a mask of barely contained irritation.
Nolan only smiled. He knew exactly why Fury had chosen her, and he knew just as well how far she would be willing to go to maintain her cover. If she didn't like the assignment? Too bad. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Sacrifice came with the territory.
And now that she was here, Nolan was certain of one thing.
The days ahead were going to be very interesting.
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