Nolan returned to his private quarters and imdiately opened a comm-link to Raditus. He outlined his ideas for modifying the Assault Centurion, proposing ways to streamline the deploynt process, reduce the support crew requirents, make it more tactically flexible.
The servo skull's response ca through laced with static and what could only be described as chanical irritation.
The foundry had exactly two people working in it now: Raditus and Doom. The backlog of research tasks they faced wasn't rely substantial. It was crushing. Endless. Impossible to complete in any reasonable tifra even with both of them working around the clock.
Adding another complex project to that pile would break sothing. Probably Raditus's patience.
Nolan winced, embarrassnt warming his cheeks despite himself. "Right. Sorry. Bad timing."
He closed the comm-link and sat in silence for a mont, thinking. Then he stood and went looking for David, finding the ancient machine spirit coordinating external operations from a command terminal.
"David, contact Tony Stark. See if he has ti."
David's optical sensors swiveled toward him. "Imdiately, my lord."
Minutes later, David returned with a report. Jarvis had confird that Tony was available. More than that, Thor was still in New York, apparently having taken up semi-permanent residence at Stark Tower.
According to David's intelligence, Tony and Thor had beco sothing like friends. Or at least partners in vigilante justice. The two had been conducting unauthorized raids on S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities and Hydra cells across the Arican continent for weeks now.
Rogers was feeding them intelligence. Playing informant while maintaining his cover within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s structure.
Nolan touched his chin, thinking through the implications. A frown creased his forehead.
"David, prepare a Thunderhawk. And have the servo-robots move the Assault Centurion back to the hangar."
"We're going to Stark Tower?" David asked.
"Yes. Two objectives. First, I want Tony to help modify the Centurion's deploynt system. Make it faster, simpler, less dependent on support crews. Second..."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"I want to discuss coordinating our efforts. If Tony and Thor are already hunting Hydra, we should pool resources. Mount a proper campaign to eliminate them completely."
"A training exercise," David said, understanding imdiately. "In case the Chaos Gods manifest."
"Exactly. This world is ho to all of us. I can't protect it alone. We need everyone ready."
The Thunderhawk's engines roared to life, their basso thunder shaking the hangar's tal walls. David guided the twenty-five-ter transport smoothly off the platform, rising into the dark Antarctic sky where snowflakes fell in endless curtains.
The aircraft's nose pitched forward. The engines scread louder, pushing them up through cloud layers and into the stratosphere. Course: New York City.
New York had grown accustod to strangeness.
The golden-red blur of Iron Man streaking across the skyline was now part of the city's daily rhythm, barely worth a second glance. The occasional rumble of thunder and glimpses of a caped figure in the clouds had been hot gossip for perhaps a week before fading into the background noise of urban life.
Citizens scrolling through their phones were far more interested in newer, stranger urban legends. chanical tentacles robbing banks through ventilation systems. A humanoid crocodile living in the sewers. Street gangs getting slaughtered wholesale by unknown assailants.
So when the Thunderhawk's engine roar cut through the city's ambient noise, drawing a few upturned faces, most people glanced at the strange aircraft once, shrugged, and went back to their screens.
Only the holess and the addicts, whose sleep had been shattered by the noise, bothered to raise middle fingers at the passing craft and mutter curses about "that billionaire asshole Stark."
The Thunderhawk descended toward Stark Tower's rooftop landing pad with practiced grace. The platform groaned slightly under the aircraft's weight as landing gear made contact.
The cabin door hissed open, chanism whirring.
Nolan stepped out into weak winter sunlight. He wore simple black athletic clothing, casual and unremarkable. The bottle of phantom dust on his wrist was the only thing marking him as anything other than ordinary.
He squinted against the light filtering through cloud cover, then glanced back at David erging from the cockpit.
"The only real disadvantage of the Twin Islands base," Nolan said conversationally, "is the lack of sunlight. When Natasha's team returns, I should let the Gang Dogs rotate through Latveria occasionally. Get so vitamin D."
"My lord, you are exceptionally kind to your subordinates." David's tone carried sothing like amusent. "In most organizations, subordinates are considered disposable assets."
Nolan smiled faintly and shook his head. "I think you misunderstood, David. When I say 'rotation through Latveria,' I don't an vacation ti. I an coordinating with Natasha's new intelligence network to conduct espionage and agitation operations in the surrounding countries. Preparing more territory to fly the Imperial Aquila."
He turned to face the city skyline fully.
"The Arican continent has too many powerful entities. We don't know enough about Asia yet to move aggressively. But Europe? The conquest difficulty there seems manageable. We should consolidate our position."
David's optical sensors brightened slightly. "A sound strategic assessnt."
Before either could say more, a freight elevator at the far end of the platform opened with a heavy clank of tal doors.
Sothing stepped out. Large. Bulky. Nearly three ters tall and painted in burgundy and gold livery. It looked like soone had taken Terminator armor, removed the shoulder guards, and replaced them with industrial lifting equipnt.
The Mark 38 "Igor" armor.
"Hello, Mr. Nolan." Jarvis's voice emanated from the armor's speaker grills, polite and warm. "Hello, Mr. David. Mr. Stark is waiting for you in his top-floor laboratory. Mr. Thor is also present. Welco."
"Hello, Jarvis." Nolan raised a hand in greeting.
Then he turned to David, eyebrow raised. "Are you recruiting apprentices now?"
David's optical sensors dimd slightly, almost like embarrassnt. "My apologies, my lord. I have not yet inford you. Jarvis is still a very immature artificial intelligence. Rather than allowing him to develop without guidance, I thought it prudent to offer... small inspirations. If this arrangent troubles you, I can terminate the ntorship imdiately."
Nolan scratched his chin, considering. Then he shook his head. "That's not necessary, David. You have the freedom to make friends."
A pause.
"Though I do rember we made a bet. About whether you'd form connections here. Judging by current evidence, I lost."
"However, since you now have multiple new friends rather than just one, I'm freezing the bet's resolution. We'll settle it next ti."
"My lord," David said, his tone dry, "you are simply cheating."
Nolan shrugged, grinning. "Guilty as charged."
He walked over to the Igor armor, reaching out to tap its heavy plating with two fingers. The sound echoed dully.
"Interesting. Not real ceramite, but the color and texture are a pretty good imitation. I should charge Tony copyright fees."
Without waiting for a response, Nolan turned toward the freight elevator. David followed. Jarvis, controlling the Igor armor, pivoted toward the Thunderhawk's cabin to retrieve the Assault Centurion.
The elevator descended smoothly through Stark Tower's upper floors. When it opened, Nolan and David found themselves in a wide corridor with no identifying markers. No signs. No directions.
They wandered for several minutes, checking doors, until they finally located what had to be Tony's laboratory. The entrance was reinforced, secure, covered in warning labels about electromagnetic interference and unauthorized access.
David stepped forward to interface with the door's control system.
Before he could make contact, the entire door retracted into the walls with a smooth chanical hiss.
Thor stood in the opening, grinning broadly. He wore a casual suit that looked absurdly expensive and slightly too tight across his shoulders. His arms spread wide in welco.
"Haha! Long ti no see, Brother Nolan!"
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