Brazil
A small village in the Amazon rainforest.
Obadiah walked out of his self-built wooden hut, shirtless. For a man in his sixties, maintaining a fit physique was rare, but Obadiah was just such a man.
Casually grabbing a coconut piled next to the hut, Obadiah took a knife and quickly peeled it down to its white husk. Then, with a single punch, the coconut cracked open with a loud thud.
Gulping down the coconut water, Obadiah wiped his wet beard, looking much like a hero from Mount Liang.
Tossing the empty coconut shell into a nearby pile of grass, Obadiah checked his phone. It displayed an unknown message.
M: Is your asking price serious?
"That miser!" Obadiah snorted disdainfully at the message, then walked to another wooden hut and forcefully pushed open its large door.
After the dust settled, Obadiah entered the room, raised his phone, and looked at the human-shaped object wrapped in a tarp under two hydraulic pillars in the center of the room.
He snapped a few photos and sent them. His phone buzzed, and another unknown message appeared.
M: I need to see the goods. If there are no problems, you will get what you want!
"These French bastards!" Obadiah cursed at the message. He, a prominent figure, was now like a tiger fallen into a plain, bullied by dogs. In the past, only a few thousand people in all of America would dare speak to him like that.
I will endure!
Obadiah had experienced hardship as a child. Born during wartime, he boldly went to the war zone during the Vietnam War to gather soldiers' opinions on Stark Industries' weapons. Such dedication naturally earned him the appreciation of Stark's father. Together, they made Stark Industries bigger and stronger. So, even though he now lived in a dilapidated house in the Amazon, Obadiah remained undiscouraged. As long as he found an opportunity, he could immediately turn his fortunes around.
Paris, France
James McCullen lay on his soft executive chair, humming a tune. His phone buzzed occasionally, but McCullen ignored it, instead reaching his hand towards the female secretary crouching under his chair.
"Wonderful~" He patted the secretary's face in encouragement, then picked up his phone, slid to unlock it, and several images of the Mark I armor appeared, along with a few messages.
S: This is my bargaining chip.
Looking at the message, McCullen let out a triumphant laugh.
Then he sent a message back.
Address, I'll send someone to pick you up!
Seconds later, a string of coordinates appeared.
After copying and pasting the address into his browser, McCullen found that it was in South America.
"Anna, you and Storm Shadow go to this location to pick someone up. Remember, be polite. This person is our big prize!" After confirming the address, McCullen picked up his phone and dialed another number… Amazon
After confirming that someone would come to pick him up, Obadiah sighed. In the past, he would have disdained a clown like James McCullen, but now, to get revenge, he had no choice but to seek this guy's help. Why didn't Obadiah choose Justin Hammer? Obadiah could bet that if Justin Hammer received his call, he would immediately bring the FBI to arrest him, then take the Mark I armor back to his company and claim he developed it himself. Having fought Justin Hammer for over a decade, Obadiah knew exactly what Hammer was up to with every twitch. Capitalists, especially those who appear kind-hearted, are the least trustworthy. Even with James McCullen, Obadiah had a backup plan.
"Whoosh!" A sound unlike the usual jungle noises, a whistling wind, entered Obadiah's ears. Highly familiar with engines, Obadiah couldn't identify this particular model, but he was certain it was an ion propulsion engine.
The treetops swayed more and more violently, and then Obadiah saw a streamlined, unidentified flying object roaring as it hovered above his rundown shack.
"It seems I underestimated McCullen!" Obadiah frowned, instinctively wondering how Stark Industries should respond, then he realized he was no longer with Stark Industries.
He gave a self-deprecating laugh, then Obadiah walked towards the slowly descending aircraft.
"Are you Mr. S?" A hatch opened on the side of the aircraft, a retractable ladder extended, and a black-haired woman in a leather coat and tall boots jumped down.
"Yes, that's me!" Obadiah looked at the woman struggling to pull her boots out of the mud and suddenly wondered if his choice was correct.
"Haha!" The black-haired woman struggled a few times but couldn't get her shoe out. She was too embarrassed to ask Obadiah for help and could only call her companion.
"Storm Shadow!"
A white figure flew out of the hatch, executed a nimble somersault in the air, and then also stepped into the mud. However, he was quick enough to jump out before sinking in.
"Pull me out!" The black-haired woman glared and extended her hand to the man in white.
By the time the two struggled out of the mud, Obadiah had already pulled the Mark I prototype out of the hut.
"I'm Anna, and this is Storm Shadow. Welcome to McCullen Group!" The black-haired woman wiped some mud off, forced an awkward smile, and pointed to the white-clad Asian man who was wiping mud specks off himself.
"Let's go!" Obadiah nodded, indicating he understood… Fisher didn't know that because of his butterfly effect, the Marvel storyline had already begun to unravel. But even if he knew, he wouldn't care. Although his current strength wasn't enough to dominate the world, he could certainly cleanse the world with missiles. Worst case, they'd flip the table, and no one would get to play!
"Why have you been staring at this cup for half an hour without moving?" Kate asked, quite curious, looking at Fisher.
"I'm trying to make this thing float!" Fisher continued to stare intently at the cup.
Since returning from Mars, he hadn't paid much attention to his Star Beacon, so he hadn't realized that his upgrade on Mars seemed to have given him two new ways to use psychic powers in his mind. No, to be precise, two paths of spellcasting. The first was telekinesis. In 40k, a psyker who could use telekinesis might not necessarily be strong, but strong psykers all knew how to use telekinesis. An Astra Militarum psyker could use telekinesis to lift a several-ton Leman Russ tank, or crush an opponent with an invisible giant hand. More powerful psykers, like the Speedwaaagh! Warboss, could create an invisible shield with a single finger to block dozens of bolt rounds, or stab a high-speed Space Marine into a marble statue, immobilizing them. Of course, there were even more powerful ones, but Fisher was far from reaching those levels. His current level wasn't even good enough for the Astra Militarum; at best, he'd be cannon fodder for the PDF, especially since he hadn't even mastered how to use telekinesis and was just blindly flailing.
"It's not like you're on the toilet. No matter how much you strain, the cup won't float; you'll just fart a few times!" Kate said exasperatedly. "You'd be better off helping me with these reports!"
"No, there's a second one!" Fisher took a fruit knife from the dining room and, under Kate's bewildered gaze, cut himself on the hand.
"You're crazy! I'll get the first-aid kit!" Kate was startled and immediately turned to leave, but Fisher called her back.
"Don't rush, watch this!" Fisher slowly covered the wound with his right hand, tracing his fingers over the skin. The areas his fingers touched became perfectly whole.
"Where did you learn that magic trick?"
"No, this isn't magic!" Fisher picked up the knife, which still had his blood on it. That's right, this was the second ability Fisher had gained: healing. However, he hadn't yet tested the limits of this ability.
"I still can't believe it!"
"Trust me, in a few years, you'll discover things even more amazing than this!" Fisher wasn't worried about Kate leaking secrets. They had known each other for over ten years, three of which were spent on the battlefield. Fisher had even saved Kate's life. As Kate put it, from the moment Fisher rescued her, severely wounded, from the destroyer hit by a torpedo, she belonged to Fisher.
"So what is this thing, magic? Or some kind of genetic mutation?"
"I call it psychic power. While it has similarities to magic, the source of its power is completely different!"
"So, this psychic power can only heal your scars?"
"No, it has many functions; it's just that my current strength only allows me to do this much!"
"Then, can I also have this psychic power?"
"Theoretically, it should be possible!" Fisher thought for a moment. Logically, after they had *ahem* so many times, Kate should have undergone some kind of power transformation, but she showed no reaction. Should he increase the intensity?
"Maybe I'll find a way in a while!"
"Then I'll go look at the reports!" As Kate turned, her flowing hair brushed against a document Fisher had placed on the table, and several papers fluttered out.
"Damn it!" Fisher instinctively reached out towards the papers, then noticed that the paper seemed to stop its descent.
Then Fisher activated his psychic power, slowly raising his palm, and the paper also slowly ascended with his movement.
"Holy crap!" Fisher immediately released his palm in delight, not caring that the document fell to the floor. He turned his gaze to the cup that he had struggled with earlier to no avail.
Carefully sensing his state, Fisher realized it truly felt as if an invisible hand was lifting the cup. Then he tried with a stool, a coffee table, and even Kate's camisole.
"Are you trying to die?!" Kate, feeling a chill on her chest, glared, but seeing Fisher grinning like an idiot, she could only sigh and hold her forehead. Was it still possible to change bosses now?
Thank you, Yami no Rumia, for the 10,000 reward. Thank you, fuze hostage hope, for the 300 reward, Mo Beichen 1911 for the 100 reward, and UBI for the 100 reward. Thank you, bosses.