Chapter 2: The Engineer's Awakening
Marcus locked himself in the penthouse for six days.
He told Hammer's secretary it was an "executive health retreat," which wasn't entirely a lie. The body he'd inherited had been systematically destroyed by cocaine, alcohol, and stress. If he'd woken up a day later, there might not have been enough left to inhabit. As it was, he spent the first morning throwing away every bottle, every pill, every substance Hammer had used to cope with being second-best.
That part of Justin Hammer's life was over.
The rest, though—the company, the resources, the potential—that he'd keep.
He spent the days in Hammer's private lab, a space the original owner had barely used except to tour clients through. It was small by industrial standards but equipped with everything Marcus needed: fabrication tools, testing equipment, a materials analysis station that probably cost more than a house.
Perfect.
Marcus started simple. Chemical formulas first. He'd write out a basic reaction—something any college freshman should know—and feel the Scientific Intuition activate. The formula would click in his mind, and suddenly he'd understand not just the reaction but every possible permutation of it. Variables he could adjust. Catalysts that would improve yield. Side products he could isolate for profit.
It was intoxicating.
He moved to physics. Ballistic trajectories. Energy transfer. Thermodynamics. Each problem he posed to himself came back answered before he'd finished writing it down. His hand would cramp from taking notes, trying to keep up with the flood of information his mind offered.
On the third day, he brought in one of Hammer Industries' failed designs.
The H-13 assault rifle sat on his workbench, a beautiful piece of engineering that had catastrophically exploded during its last field test, injuring two Marines. The official report called it a "systemic materials failure." Hammer's notes just said: Another disaster. Discontinue.
Marcus picked it up.
His hands knew where to look before his conscious mind did. He traced the barrel's rifling, and the Scientific Intuition screamed at him: Wrong angle. Heat buildup causes metal fatigue. Seven test fires before structural failure.
He examined the firing mechanism. Spring tension miscalibrated. Causes jam after sustained use. Also, parts not properly treated for corrosion resistance.
The ammunition feed. Designed for wrong magazine type. Original specs changed but feed system wasn't updated.
On and on it went. Seventeen major flaws, dozens of minor ones. Each one obvious now. Each one fixable.
Marcus set the rifle down carefully, his hands shaking.
"I can rebuild Hammer Industries," he said to the empty lab. "I can actually do this."
But he'd need help. Hammer's staff were either incompetent or corrupt, often both. The company's reputation was garbage. He'd need someone brilliant, someone overlooked, someone who'd be loyal because he saw their value when no one else did.
He pulled up Hammer Industries' personnel files on his laptop.
Three hours later, he found her.
Dr. Maya Vasquez worked in Lab 7-C, a converted storage space in the basement of Hammer Industries' Manhattan facility. It wasn't even labeled on the building directory.
Marcus found it anyway.
He'd dismissed his security escort at the elevator—Hammer's bodyguards made him nervous, too used to the original owner's habits—and navigated the fluorescent-lit corridors alone. Down here, the building lost its corporate polish. Exposed pipes. Concrete walls. The distant hum of HVAC systems.
Lab 7-C's door was propped open with a fire extinguisher.
Inside, a woman in her thirties was elbow-deep in a cybernetic arm.
"I'm just saying," she muttered to no one, "that if you'd used the tungsten alloy like I suggested, instead of the cheap titanium like you mandated, we wouldn't have stress fractures after three hundred hours of use. But no. 'Not profitable enough.' Well, guess what's not profitable? Failed products!"
She twisted something, and the arm's fingers twitched.
"Hah! See? Told you the servo timing wasn't the—"
"Dr. Vasquez."
She spun around so fast she knocked over a tray of tools. They clattered across the floor, and she stared at Marcus like he'd materialized from thin air.
"Mr. Hammer." She straightened, professional mask slamming down. "I didn't know you were visiting. I would have cleaned up if—"
"Your last three proposals were rejected for being 'not profitable enough,'" Marcus said. "Neural-integrated prosthetics. Advanced servo systems. Smart materials. All declined."
Maya's jaw tightened. "Yes, sir. The board felt that—"
"The board is a collection of short-sighted idiots." Marcus walked past her to the workbench, examining the prosthetic arm. His Scientific Intuition activated immediately, and he saw—really saw—what she'd built.
It was brilliant.
The neural interface was years ahead of anything on the market. The servo feedback system would give users genuine tactile sensation. The structural design was elegant, efficient, and if she'd been allowed to use the materials she'd specified, this thing could match or exceed human arm strength.
"This is extraordinary," Marcus said quietly.
Maya blinked. "Sir?"
"The interface resolution here." He pointed to a cluster of sensors. "You're attempting direct nerve mapping? That's—that should be impossible. The signal noise alone would—"
"I use a differential amplifier with a adaptive filter," Maya said, the words coming faster now. "It learns the user's neural patterns and compensates in real-time. It's not perfect yet, but in testing it reduced signal loss by seventy percent."
"Seventy," Marcus repeated. His mind was already racing ahead, seeing applications. Powered armor. Exoskeletons. If she could refine this, could integrate it with—
He turned to face her fully. "What if you didn't use tungsten?"
"What?"
"For the structural components. Tungsten is better than the titanium they mandated, yes. But what if you could use something else? Something stronger, lighter, with better energy conductivity?"
Maya frowned. "Such as? I've tested every alloy in our materials database. They're all compromises. Either too heavy, too expensive, or too brittle."
"What if it didn't exist yet?"
"Then I'd invent it, but materials science doesn't work that—" She stopped. Studied him. "You're serious."
"Dr. Vasquez, I'm restructuring this company. The board members who rejected your work? They'll be gone by next week. The budget constraints that forced you into this basement? Eliminated. I need someone who can build technology that matters. Technology that saves lives. And I think you're exactly that person."
She stared at him. "Is this a prank? Did Jenkins put you up to this? Because I swear to God—"
"I'm offering you the position of Chief Technology Officer."
The lab went silent except for the hum of equipment.
"What," Maya said flatly.
"CTO. Unlimited research budget. Your own division. Full hiring authority. You report directly to me, and your only mandate is to build things that shouldn't be possible yet."
"I—" Maya's hands clenched. "Why? Why now? Why me? You've never even visited this lab before, and suddenly you're offering me—"
"Because I wasted time with incompetence," Marcus said. "And I'm done wasting time. You're brilliant. You're undervalued. And if you'd been given proper resources from the start, Hammer Industries would already have the best prosthetics on the market."
He gestured to the cybernetic arm. "Your servo timing is off by point-three seconds on the ring finger. Increase the voltage to the secondary servo by eight percent. And if you adjust the neural feedback loop here—" He pointed to a specific chip, "—you'll reduce phantom pain by about forty percent."
Maya's eyes went wide. She grabbed a tablet, pulled up her design specs, and started checking his suggestions against her calculations. Her fingers flew across the screen. Then she stopped. Looked up at him.
"How did you know that?"
Marcus smiled. "Do you want the job or not?"
She studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I want the job."
"Good. Start preparing your research priorities. I'll have contracts drawn up and a lab space assigned by tomorrow. A real lab, not a basement closet."
He turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. Start thinking about applications beyond prosthetics. Combat exoskeletons. Powered armor. Human enhancement. If we're going to build the future, we might as well build all of it."
Maya's expression shifted from cautious to hungry. "Are you serious?"
"Completely."
As he walked back toward the elevator, he heard her muttering behind him: "Holy shit. Holy shit. JARVIS, you're about to have competition."
Marcus grinned.
He collapsed into bed that night, exhausted but wired.
Two powers identified. Scientific Intuition was active, growing stronger every time he used it. And there was still a third one, dormant, waiting to wake up.
But tonight, he'd focus on the second.
He'd been feeling it for days now—a strange hunger in his hands whenever he looked at materials. An itch to make, to transform, to turn the mundane into something extraordinary. And tonight, working with Maya's prosthetics, it had grown too strong to ignore.
Marcus went to the penthouse's kitchen and grabbed a block of steel. Just a paperweight, something decorative. He carried it to the living room and set it on the coffee table.
Then he stared at it.
"Come on," he muttered. "Do something."
Nothing happened.
Marcus frowned. His Scientific Intuition had triggered naturally. Why wasn't this one—
You're thinking about it wrong, a voice whispered from the back of his mind. Not his voice. Something deeper. Something from the void. You don't just want to improve it. You want to CHANGE it. To make it what it should be.
Marcus took a breath. Closed his eyes. Let the hunger in his hands grow, let it spread up his arms, into his chest. He thought about the perfect steel alloy he'd imagined for Maya's prosthetics. Strong. Light. Conductive. Perfect molecular alignment.
His palm burned.
He opened his eyes.
A geometric circle of light was spreading across the coffee table. Symbols he shouldn't understand but did—alchemical patterns, mathematical formulas written in shapes instead of numbers. The steel paperweight sat at the center, and the light wrapped around it like hungry fingers.
Marcus didn't move. Didn't breathe.
The steel began to change.
Impurities burned away as light. The molecular structure reorganized itself, atoms sliding into perfect crystalline alignment. The metal's color shifted from dull gray to something brighter, cleaner. When the light faded, the paperweight looked the same at first glance.
But Marcus could feel the difference.
He picked it up. It was lighter by half. Warmer. And when he tested it against the edge of the table—carefully—it didn't scratch. The table did.
"Transmutation," Marcus whispered.
The word felt right. He was transmuting matter, reorganizing it on an atomic level to create something new. And the process followed a logic he understood instinctively: equivalent exchange. You couldn't create something from nothing. But you could take what existed and make it better.
He looked at his palm. Faint marks lingered beneath the skin, geometric patterns that glowed softly in the dark. They faded as he watched, but he knew they'd return. This power had a cost. Every transmutation would mark him a little more.
The void's gift wasn't free.
Marcus set the steel down carefully. His whole body ached, like he'd run a marathon. But his mind was racing. If he could transmute steel into something better, what else could he do? Could he create alloys that didn't exist? Materials that would revolutionize manufacturing?
Could he build technology to rival Tony Stark's?
"Two down," he said to the empty penthouse. "One more to go."
Outside, New York slept. Somewhere in the city, Tony Stark was probably at some party, charming everyone and building weapons that killed with elegant efficiency. In three months, Afghanistan would change him. Iron Man would be born.
And Justin Hammer—the new Justin Hammer—would be ready.
Marcus smiled at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling him under.
He was going to change everything.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0